


weighed & measured

by neophilim



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mentor Severus Snape, Not Canon Compliant - Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Not Pottermore Compliant, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Slytherin Harry Potter, Tags May Change, i wrote this for me but you can read it if you want, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:11:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26300170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neophilim/pseuds/neophilim
Summary: Harry Potter is unremarkable in every way, except for two things - the lightning bolt scar that crosses his face, and his ability to understand snakes. An unwanted orphan, Harry knows that eventually, he will get away from his loathsome aunt and uncle. He doesn't expect that day to come just before his eleventh birthday, when he gets a mysterious letter inviting him to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.Harry discovers that is famous in the magical world for something he can barely remember - the defeat of the infamous Dark Lord Voldemort. Shocking the school by being sorted into Slytherin, Harry is determined to live up to his fame. But there is more to the wizarding world than Hogwarts teaches, and Harry finds out that secrets are being kept from him. Not to mention the Headmaster is clearly hiding something, and their Defense Professor has an unusual interest in him.With his friends at his side, Harry learns to forge his own path in this new world.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 131





	1. the serpent in the garden

**Author's Note:**

> _and it's my own heart  
>  weighed and measured inside  
> and it's an old scar  
> trying to bleach it out_  
> \- florence & the machine, which witch

His aunt had shut him out of the house. Again.

With a sigh, nine-year-old Harry Potter headed to the garden, his small stomach rumbling as he went. He had been refused lunch because... well, because. His aunt had said something about unnatural behavior, but Harry wasn't really sure what she meant. All he knew was that sometimes, he didn't get to eat.

At least when he was outside he got to drink from the hose as much as he wanted. That was nice.

Aunt Petunia had gotten some new flowers that he was supposed to plant, so Harry got to work, kneeling in the grass, his hands soon covered in dirt. It was springtime, so it wasn't too hot out, and he was glad. It was almost relaxing, being away from his loathsome relatives. Or it would be, if he knew that his work wouldn't be scrutinized and he punished for the smallest mistake, real or imaginary.

Digging a hole for another flower, he startled slightly when he saw a grass snake, curled up in the shade. It was very small, and Harry thought it might be a baby. 

It raised its head and hissed at him, and, reflexively, Harry apologized.

"Sorry," he said, before reminding himself that the snake couldn't understand him, anyway. Still, he was a lonely child, and if he could be friends with the spiders in his cupboard, he could be friends with a snake, as well. "You'd better move along," he continued. "If my family finds you here, they'll probably kill you."

For someone who was as proud of her garden as Aunt Petunia, she certainly hated anything that was natural in it. Harry didn't understand it, but then, he didn't understand a lot about his relatives.

Harry expected the snake to slither away, just to get away from a scary human, but then the last thing that he expected happened.

The snake spoke back. 

"You speak?" it said, tilting its head curiously. "Human speaks?"

Harry stared. What? Was this some kind of special, magic snake?

"Yes," he said slowly. "But I've never spoken to a snake before. Can you speak to all humans?"

He wasn't sure if it was the snake who was unique, or if it was him. Could he speak to all snakes? He'd never had the opportunity to try before.

The snake hissed, though it was a different kind of sound than before.

"No. Humans dumb, loud, scary. Never met a human that spoke, but mother told stories."

Harry looked around. He didn't think his aunt or cousin was watching, and his uncle was at work. He leaned down a little bit, curious.

"What kind of stories?" he asked.

"Special humans that use a stick to do magic. Stay away from them. But even more special humans can speak. Snake Speakers. Good humans."

Humans that used a stick to do magic? Harry thought of his dreams, of the flying motorcycle, the green light, the man laughing and holding a stick - a wand.

Was that what the snake meant? Were there really people who could do magic? 

"Oh," he said quietly. If he could speak to snakes, maybe... maybe _he_ could do magic. "Do you have to be magic to speak to snakes?" he asked hesitantly.

The snake nodded.

"Yes. Special magic."

Well.

It certainly would explain a lot. Like the strange things that always seemed to happen around Harry. Maybe _he_ was doing those things.

It would explain his relative's behavior, if they knew. They would hate it if he was magic. Unnatural.

Harry took a moment to let this knew knowledge absorb. It felt right, in a way that nothing ever had before. He was magic. That was it. There wasn't something wrong with him, not really, not like he thought. 

"Thank you," he said to the snake. "I didn't know. But you really should leave, no. I'll get in trouble if my aunt finds me."

But the snake didn't move.

"Stay with speaker," it said.

"What?"

" _Stay with speaker_ ," it insisted, slithering forward towards Harry and climbing up his hand.

"No, you can't," Harry said weakly, torn between his desire for a real friend and the need to protect the snake from his family. "They'll hurt you if they find you."

"No. Speaker will protect. I will hide from other humans."

Harry bit his lip. He knew that he should turn the snake away, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. 

"What's your name?" he asked instead,

"Mother called me Quietly-Through-Grass," the snake said, proudly. "But that is only my hatchling name."

Harry figured that snakes didn't name things the way humans did.

"Oh. Are, um. Are you a girl or a boy?"

Quietly-Through-Grass hissed, and it took a minute for Harry to realize that it was laughing. 

"Female," she said.

"Okay. I guess you can stay with me, for now. But you have to stay hidden from the other humans, okay? I don't want you to get hurt."

"Lots of things hurt. Worlds is dangerous. But I want to stay with you," Quietly-Through-Grass said.

Harry had never thought about it like that. He guessed life was dangerous for snake living around humans, especially humans like the Dursley's . And there were big birds or cats that could eat you. Maybe he could protect the little snake, even.

"I have to get back to the gardening before my aunt catches me," he said. "I'll get you before I go inside, though."

Harry went to work, but somehow, it was easier. He had a friend, now.

* * *

As Harry grew, so did Quietly-Through Grass, who Harry had named Persephone after something he had read in a book. In fact, as the years went on, she grew rather larger than a grass snake was supposed to be. Yet somehow, she was never found out by the Dursley's. Harry supposed that it was more magic, though how it worked, he still didn't understand. Perse didn't know much about it, save that magic people existed and used wands. Harry was grateful for that much knowledge. After all, without her, he would still have no idea that he was anything but a normal, non-magical human.

Learning more about magic proved to be a nearly impossible task. His family forbade the mere mention of it, so Harry couldn't ask them, even if he was allowed to asked questions. He didn't even know if they knew that magic was real. He wondered if his parents were magical, but he didn't dare bring up his mother or father to his aunt. And he avoided speaking to his uncle as much as possible.

Persphone spent much of her time hunting in the garden or in Harry's cupboard, where the spiders had nearly disappeared due to her hunting. Harry didn't mourn them much. After all, a friend that he could talk to was much better.

Harry would often speak to Persephone when he was locked in his cupboard. He would tell her things that he learned in school, and she was an attentive listener. He was even teaching her to recognize English, with the idea that it could be useful if she could understand other humans.

Now eleven, Harry's life was looking up. He was about to go to a new school, away from Dudley, his awful cousin. While he didn't expect to be popular, exactly, he did think he might make a new friend or two, without Dudley to drive them away. And he liked learning, and he wouldn't have to fake his grades any longer. The one time he had done better than Dudley on a test, his uncle had made him regret it, punishing him for cheating. Ever since then, Harry had made sure to give more wrong answers on his homework, so that the Dursley's wouldn't have yet another excuse to punish him. But without Dudley to complain, he doubted they would bother looking at his reports.

One morning, he woke up and went into the kitchen to make breakfast, only to smell something absolutely horrid. He scrunched his nose, glad that Persephone was out in the garden so she didn't have to deal with it. In the sink, in a metal tub, fabric soaked in grey water.

Harry hesitated for a moment, before looking up at his aunt.

"What's this?" It was, after all, in his way.

She made a pinched expression, as she did when he spoke to her unprompted.

"It's your new school uniform. I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things grey."

"Oh," said Harry, as he started frying eggs. He frowned. His plans for making friends wasn't going to go very well, if he was expected to wear _that_. Then again, did he really think his aunt was going to buy him new clothes. He nearly laughed at the thought.

His uncle and cousin arrived as soon as Harry finished with the bacon, and he brought the plates to the kitchen. Just about to serve himself what remained after his relatives filled their plates, they heard the sound of the mail coming through the slot.

"Get the post," Uncle Vernon grunted. Harry wasn't sure who he was talking to, but when Dudley raised his Smeltings stick to hit him, Harry decided it was best that he get the mail.

In the front hallway, Harry bent over to pick up the mail. One of the letters was thicker than the others, with odd feeling paper. Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry pulled out the strange letter, and bit back a gasp. It was addressed to _him._

> _Mr H. Potter  
>  The Cupboard under the Stairs  
> 4 Privet Drive  
> Little Whinging_

It even had his cupboard on it!

Harry glanced back at the kitchen, hesitating. Surely the Dursley's would never allow him to keep it, even if it wasn't a prank. They would take it from him, just like the took everything else.

As he passed his cupboard, Harry surreptitiously slipped the letter through the crack between the wall and the door. He would read it later, in private.

The rest of the day was torture. For the first time in his life, Harry couldn't wait to get into his cupboard. When he was sent out to mow the lawn, he even told Persephone about it, even though she didn't really understand the concept of mail yet. _  
_

Finally, dinner was over, and Harry was free to go to bed. He shut the door of the cupboard behind him, Persephone coiled around his neck, and he pulled on the light.

> _HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_
> 
> _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_
> 
> _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_
> 
> _Dear Mr Potter,_
> 
> _We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._
> 
> _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._
> 
> _Yours sincerely,_
> 
> _Minerva McGonagall_
> 
> _Deputy Headmistress_

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Was this some kind of a prank? But no, there was no one that would fool him with something like this. The Dursley's certainly weren't creative enough, and they would never use the concept of magic against him like that.

Still, it could be fake.... but Harry didn't think so. After all, if _he_ was magic, it stood to reason that there were other magical humans in the world. That there was a school wasn't that shocking.

He read the other page.

> _HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_
> 
> _Uniform_
> 
> _First-year students will require:_
> 
> _1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_
> 
> _2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_
> 
> _3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_
> 
> _4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_
> 
> _Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags_

> Set Books
> 
> _All students should have a copy of each of the following:_
> 
> _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_
> 
> _A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_
> 
> _Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_
> 
> _A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_
> 
> _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_
> 
> _Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_
> 
> _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_
> 
> _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_
> 
> _Other Equipment_
> 
> _1 wand_
> 
> _1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_
> 
> _1 set glass or crystal phials_
> 
> _1 telescope_
> 
> _1 set brass scales_
> 
> _Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_
> 
> _PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

Where on earth was he supposed to get all of those things? Not in Little Whinging, that was for certain. He looked at the first page again, hoping that he had missed something. _We await your owl_. What did that mean? What did an owl have to do with anything?

Still, Harry was determined to answer. He got one of his school notebooks and a pen, and scrawled a response.

> _Professor McGongall,_
> 
> _I would be pleased to attend Hogwarts. However, I don't know where to get my school supplies, or how I'm meant to pay for them. Can you write me back with instructions? And is there any kind of scholarship for students who can't afford things?_
> 
> _Thank you,_
> 
> _Harry Potter_

The next day, Harry nicked an envelope from his uncle, and placed the letter in the post. It was addressed only to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he wasn't sure it would get where he wanted it to go, but it was his only idea.

When he told Persephone about it, she did the snake equivalent of a shrug.

"You have to learn magic somewhere," she had said, and Harry supposed that was right.

Three days later that Harry got his reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I'm writing another fanfic? My muse wouldn't leave this idea alone, so I figured I might as well post it.
> 
> This story is unedited, so please forgive any mistakes.
> 
> Right now I'm unsure of pairings, but once I figure that out I will let you know! Regardless, that won't be applicable until Harry's fourth year, at least.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. professor snape

Harry was busy in the front garden, Persephone keeping him company as he pulled out weeds. There were few mice in the yard any longer, Perse having hunted most of them, but she liked the sunshine anyway, and Harry appreciated that she liked spending time with him,

Still, he was oddly quiet that day. Usually, he would be talking to his friend, teaching her what he had learned at school, what books he had read, or how to understand English. But Harry's mind had been occupied with the mysterious letter he had received three days ago, and he wasn't much in the mood for conversation. He agreed with Persephone that, if magic existed, the idea that you had to be trained in it wasn't far fetched. However, the existence of the letter meant that other magical people knew about him. Someone knew about him, and still, he was left with the Dursley's.

It was a troubling thought. He had figured out long ago that the way they treated him wasn't right, that it was even abusive, but no one had ever helped him. Not when he came to school in Dudley's old rags, when his family could obviously afford better. Not when he fainted from hunger in gym class. Not even when he built up the courage to mention something to one of his teachers.

To think that someone knew that he lived there, and he left him there.... he didn't like it.

Harry was lost in thought on this troubling subject, methodically and automatically pulling weeds, when Persephone hissed at him.

"There's someone coming. I can smell them," she said, slithering into his shirt to hide and coiling around his waist.

Harry stiffened slightly. He assumed that it was the postman, perhaps, or a visitor of the Dursleys. He soon heard footsteps, and didn't look up. He preferred to be ignored, when possible. But, as the footsteps grew closer, he couldn't help himself. He straightened up, and looked around,.

A man stood there, wearing a neat black suit and tie, and shiny leather boots. He had pale, nearly sallow skin, a hooked nose, and long, greasy-looking black hair. He was staring at Harry oddly.

"Can I help you?" Harry asked nervously. "My aunt's in the house. I can go get her, if you want to talk to her."

"Harry Potter?" the man said, his silky voice slightly incredulous.

"Yes?" Harry asked, his heartbeat quickening. Why would the man know who he was, if he didn't have something to do with the letter?

"My name is Severus Snape. I'm a professor at Hogwarts," the man continued, looking down his nose at Harry, who was still on his knees.

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed, getting to his feet and dusting the dirt off his hands. "You got my letter, then? I wasn't sure you would, since it went through the normal post."

"Yes, we received your response, such as it was," the man, Professor Snape, said, slightly impatient. "All letters sent to Hogwarts get there eventually. I've been sent to answer your questions, and escort you to get your school supplies."

"Really?" Harry asked, grinning. There was a place to get all those odd things! But his smile faded, and he frowned up at the professor. "But how am I to pay for it all? The Dursley's won't, I'm sure of it."

The professor's face spasmed slightly, as if he was surprised but trying to hide it.

"You needn't worry about _that_ , Mr. Potter, I assure you," he said softly. "Now, I do need to speak to your aunt."

Harry glanced down at his feet, biting his lip.

"Er... my aunt doesn't know about the letter yet," he mumbled. "At first I thought it was a prank, and then I didn't think they'd let me write back."

"I see," said the professor, disapprovingly. "I imagine she won't be pleased to see me, them. Still, needs must. Come with me, Mr. Potter, and we'll talk to her together."

Harry was glad of this, as he hadn't been looking forward to discussing Hogwarts with his relatives by himself. He followed Professor Snape to the front door, opening it from him and allowing him in.

It occurred to Harry that this might be a foolish thing to do - after all, he had no proof that Professor Snape was who he said he was. But who else would know about Hogwarts, or magic?

Harry headed into the kitchen while Professor Snape waited in the hallway impatiently.

"Aunt Petunia," Harry said, suddenly unsure what to say. Persephone shifted around his waist. "There's someone here to see you."

"What? Who is it, boy?" she snapped, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

"It's a professor from Hogwarts," Harry said, waiting for her outrage. But he was surprised when she didn't shout. Instead, she paled, her face going white.

"What?" she whispered. "How do you know about that?"

"They sent me a letter," he said. "And I replied. Professor Snape is here to talk to me about it."

If it was possible, Aunt Petunia went even paler.

"Snape? Severus Snape?" she repeated, almost silently. Harry frowned. Did that mean she knew the professor? If so, did she know about Hogwarts? About magic?

Harry didn't get a chance to ask. Aunt Petunia stalked out of the kitchen and into the hall, Harry hurrying after her.

"You!" she screeched as soon as she set eyes on Professor Snape. "What are you doing here!?"

"As Mr. Potter apparently has no idea of his heritage," Professor Snape sneered, "he needs someone from Hogwarts to introduce him to it. Did you _really_ keep it from him all these years, Petunia?"

She looked outraged.

"Of course we did!" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "We weren't about to allow that - that unnaturalness into our home! Bad enough that we had to house and feed that _freak_!"

Professor Snape smiled. It was a nasty-looking thing, and Harry hoped never to see it directed at him. As far as his aunt's words, it was nothing new.

That didn't mean they didn't hurt, however.

"I see," he said softly. "So that's how it is, is it? Well, regardless of your feelings, your nephew will be going to Hogwarts."

"We won't be paying for him to learn magic nonsense!" she screeched.

"No need to worry," the professor said nastily. "The Potters were quite a wealthy family. I suspect Mr. Potter won't have to worry about money for quite some time."

Harry's eyes widened and his mouth dropped. He was _rich_? And he never knew.

Aunt Petunia's face went from pale white to a purplish red in her anger.

"Fine," she spat. " _Fine._ Take him! We'll be glad to be rid of him for the school year!"

She turned, headed out of the room, and slammed the door behind her. Harry looked up at Professor Snape, a little bit embarrassed at his Aunt's behavior, but mostly pleased that he had handled her.

"Er, sorry about that," he said awkwardly.

"It is certainly not your fault, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said silkily. "Now, we should be off."

He turned, and Harry followed after him.

"Professor," he said quickly, because something had been weighing on his mind. "I have a question about something in the letter."

"I suspect you have many questions," he said, "but what is it?"

"It said we can only have an owl, a cat, or a toad," Harry started, "but is there any way to make an exception? I already have a pet."

It was kind of weird to call Persephone a pet, as she was more of a friend, but he knew that's how others would treat her.

"I'm surprised that your relatives allowed you to have a pet," Professor Snape said, turning to look down at him. "What is it?"

Harry pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing the serpent wound around his chest.

"This is Persephone," Harry said, a note of pride in his voice. She was already over three feet long, and still growing.

The professor looked at the snake, his eyes almost comically wide.

"You have a pet snake," he said faintly.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I found her in the garden when I was nine. She wanted to stay with me."

"What do you mean, she wanted to stay with you?" Professor Snape asked with a frown.

"She told me," Harry said, stroking Perse with one finger. "Come out and say hello," he hissed to her.

With Persephone slithering out from under his large shirt, Professor Snape almost staggered back slightly.

"Merlin," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're a parselmouth. Harry Potter is a parselmouth."

Harry frowned. What did _that_ mean?

"What's a parselmouth, sir?" he asked politely, as Persephone wound around his neck, tongue flicking out to scent the professor.

"A witch or wizard with the ability to speak to and understand serpents," Professor Snape said briefly. "It's usually considered to be a dark ability."

"Oh," Harry said. "What's that mean?"

Professor Snape sighed.

"Come with me. We'll take the Knight Bus to London, and I'll explain."

He lead Harry to the street, where he pulled out a thin black stick - his wand. Harry watched in awe as he held it out, and a purple triple-decker bus suddenly appeared with a _bang_.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Malachai Morris, and I will be your conductor this afternoon."

He was an older man, reciting the words as if he had said them many times before. But Harry was too busy ogling at the bus, which was such a bright purple and so tall he wondered how the whole neighborhood hadn't come out to have a look.

"Twenty-two sickles for two passengers," the conductor said, holding out a wrinkled hand.

Professor Snape handed him a gold coin and several silver coins, and the conductor stepped aside to let them board. He lead Harry to the back of the bus, away from the driver, and took a seat, gesturing for Harry to sit next to him.

As soon as Harry sat, the bus started moving with another _bang_ , and Harry nearly slid off his chair, but caught himself at the last moment. Persephone hissed, a wordless complaint, and Harry whispered reassurances and apologies.

With a pinched look on his face, Professor Snape waved his wand shortly, muttering what Harry assumed was some kind of magic spell, before stowing it in his robes.

"You need to be careful who you tell about your ability, Potter," he said shortly. "There are people who will think you're dark because of it, and that is something to be avoided."

"Dark?" Harry repeated. He could guess that it was something bad, but he didn't really understand what.

"Dark magic is illegal," Professor Snape explained. "Considered by most wizards to be _evil_."

"But I can't help it!" Harry exclaimed. "It's just something I can do."

"Regardless," he said, "I would keep quiet about it."

Harry frowned, but nodded.

"Alright."

"Now, Mr. Potter, am I to understand you don't know anything about magic?" Professor Snape asked.

"Nothing," Harry said. "My aunt and uncle didn't tell me anything about it, or my parents, or anything. Were my parents magical?"

The pinched look had returned to the Professor's face.

"Yes, your parents were a witch and wizard," he said.

"What were their names?" Harry asked quietly.

Snape looked like he was about to have an aneurysm, but spoke calmly regardless.

"James and Lily," he said. "They went to Hogwarts, as well."

"Thank you," Harry said, stroking Persephone again. He didn't know what to think now. _James and Lily_. He wondered what they looked like, but didn't dare ask. Not now.

"You're welcome," Snape said stiffly. "There is something else you need to know, Mr. Potter, about the wizarding world."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. He was sure there were about a thousand things he needed to learn.

"Among those in the magical world, you are rather well known," he said. "You are, in fact, known as the Boy-Who-Lived."

"The Boy-Who-Lived?" Harry repeated, puzzling out the words. Of course he was alive, but why was that special?

"When you were an infant," Professor Snape started, "a dark wizard attacked your family. Your mother and father were both killed, and that dark wizard tried to kill you, with a lethal spell. But it failed, and instead, he was destroyed."

Harry stared at Professor Snape silently for a moment.

"My parents were murdered?" he asked. "I thought they died in a car crash."

Professor Snape's eye twitched.

"No. You were lied to," he said, and Harry could detect a hint of anger in his voice. "They were murdered by one of the most powerful wizards alive. Some know him as the Dark Lord. Others call him You-Know-Who, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He was trying to take over. He very nearly succeeded."

Harry shivered.

"Why did he kill them? Why did he try to kill me?" he whispered.

Snape gave him a searching look.

"They opposed him," he said simply. "They were powerful, and they were his enemies. That was enough."

Harry's eyes teared up, and he wiped at his face furiously.

"Thank you for telling me the truth," he said, trying to regain some composure.

"Think nothing of it," Professor Snape said. "You ought to have been told long before this, in my opinion. You should know that people might recognize you. You look a great deal like your father, and the scar on your forehead is well known."

Harry flattened his hair down over his lightning bold scar, as was his habit. People knew what he looked like? More importantly, he looked like his dad?

He was about to ask Professor Snape if he had known James and Lily Potter, when the bus skidded to a halt.

"The Leaky Cauldron!" the conductor shouted, and Professor Snape rose to his feet, Harry following suit.

"We're here," he said gruffly, and lead Harry off of the bus.


	3. diagon alley

The Leaky Cauldron turned out to be a dingy looking pub in the middle of London. He had never been to London before, but all of his focus was on the old building. Harry's brow furrowed slightly, wondering what they were doing _there_. Could something that looked like that really be magic?

Professor Snape opened the door and followed Harry inside. It was dark, lit by fire instead of electric lights, and filled with people wearing strange-looking clothes. Professor Snape placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and guided him through the pub quickly. Harry wasn't trying to linger, but it seemed that the professor wasn't eager to remain too long.

"Professor Snape!" the barman exclaimed as they passed him. "Can I offer you a drink? Perhaps some butterbeer for the young lad?"

Snape glanced at the barman, black eyes glittering in the darkness.

"No thank you, Tom, not today," he said brusquely, urging Harry on.

"My word," the barman, Tom, breathed. "It can't be... _Harry Potter_?"

The Leaky Cauldron suddenly went dead silent, as if Tom's quiet words had been broadcasted out over them all.

"Harry Potter?" the murmur rose. " _The_ Harry Potter?" People stood to get a better look at him. Harry swallowed heavily, not liking all the attention at all.

Tom hurried out from behind the bar, reaching for Harry's limp hand.

"Mr. Potter, what an honor to meet you," he said, his grip firm in Harry's. "Welcome back, sir, welcome back."

That seemed to let loose a flood of people, and suddenly everyone in the pub wanted to shake his hand. They crowded around him, all speaking at once, and Harry shrunk back against Professor Snape, hoping desperately that the man would help him.

Before another person could approach, however, there was a loud _bang_. Harry flinched, and looked toward the sound. Professor Snape's wand was in the air, a look of fury on his face.

"If you're quite finished," he said coldly, his voice echoing throughout the room. "Mr. Potter is here to get his school supplies, _not_ to be gawked at. I suggest you let us pass."

Whether it was the wand in the air, or Professor Snape's foreboding expression, the crowd parted, leaving them a path to the back of the pub. Once they arrived there, a pale young wizard moved forward, apparently not intimidated.

"Quirinus," Professor Snape greeted as he escorted Harry into the alley behind the pub. The wizard followed.

"S-severus," he stuttered, though he was looking down at Harry. "M-Mister Potter, wh-what an honor it is to m-meet you."

"This is Professor Quirrell, Potter. He'll be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts," Professor Snape explained as Harry shook Quirrell's hand.

Professor Snape's wand was still in his hand, and he reached forward, tapping the bricks on the wall at the back of the alley. Harry gasped as the bricks began to shift, leaving a wide archway behind. On the other side, Harry could see a street full of witches, wizards, and shops, and he couldn't help but gape.

"W-well, I'll leave you to y-your shopping," Quirrell said, with a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Be s-seeing you at H-hogwarts, P-potter." And he swept off.

Harry glanced up at Professor Snape.

"Will everyone be like that?" he asked.

"I should hope not," Professor Snape replied with a frown. "Now, we'd best head to the bank. The goblins have been taking care of your inheritance."

"Goblins?" Harry repeated as they started down the alley. "And what's this place called, anyway?"

"Diagon Alley," Snape said promptly. "There's also Knockturn Alley, but you aren't to go down there. It's dangerous, especially for you. And the goblins are in charge of the bank, that white building at the end of the alley. And don't stare," he said sternly.

"I won't."

Harry kept turning his head as they walked, though he made sure to keep close to Professor Snape. There were about a thousand different shops - to buy potions ingredients, robes, even flying broomsticks, and more. His eyes were wide, and he could barely contain his excitement.

Finally, they reached a tall marble building, and climbed the steps. As they passed through a set of doors, Harry got his first glimpse of a goblin. He - or at least, Harry thought it was a he - was short, with pale, wrinkled skin, and long pointed ears. Harry made sure not to stare.

On the second pair of doors, silver this time, words were engraved. Harry slowed down enough to read them.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn,_

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

He frowned slightly. The goblins must take thievery very seriously, then, he thought, if they put a warning like that on their doors.

There were quite a few humans inside the bank, but there were several free goblins, and Professor Snape led Harry up to one of them.

"Good afternoon," he said, with stiff politeness. "Mr. Harry Potter would like to withdraw some money from his vault."

"His key?" the goblin said shortly. Professor Snape reached into his robes and pulled out a small golden key, which the goblin looked at closely.

"Very good," he said. "Someone will escort you to the vault. Griphook!" he called out.

Another goblin appeared. He might be younger than the one behind the counter, though Harry found it difficult to tell.

"Follow me, please," he said, and lead them to the back of the huge room, through a door, to a stone corridor lit by bright torches. The goblin whistled, and a cart rolled into view.

The three of them climbed in - Griphook first, then Harry, and finally Professor Snape - and they were off, hurtling down the tracks and taking sharp turns. Harry couldn't help but grin, imagining that it was what a rollercoaster must be like. He glanced up at Snape, but the professor wore the same sour expression as he had before.

Perhaps he was used to it.

After a while, the cart slowed down, and finally stopped. Harry thought they must be miles below London, and he wondered how anyone found their way around the complicated maze of tracks.

There was a small pathway next to the cart, and a door set into the wood. Professor Snape, Harry, and Griphook exited the car, and Snape handed the goblin the golden key.

Griphook opened the door, and Harry gasped.

It was full of gold, silver, and bronze coins. It must be worth more money than he had ever imagined.

"This is mine?" he asked quietly. But instead of Professor Snape answering, the goblin did.

"Yes, sir. Your trust vault," the goblin said, obviously assuming Harry had been speaking to him. "You will be able to access your full inheritance on your seventeenth birthday."

He had _more_? Professor Snape said that the Potter's were wealthy, but this was beyond anything Harry had thought.

Glancing up at the professor, Harry stepped into the vault.

"How much should I take?" he asked.

Professor Snape produced a small leather pouch, and handed it to Harry.

"Fill it with mostly galleons. That should be plenty to see you through the year," he instructed.

"Galleons?" Harry asked.

"The gold coins. The silver ones are sickles, and the bronze are knuts. Twenty-nine knuts to a sickle and seventeen sickles to a galleon."

Harry filled the leather bag and slipped it into his pocket, still not quite believing he had so much money in his possession. After a lifetime of being told to be grateful for the scraps from the Dursley's table, it was a lot to take in. Harry told himself he wasn't going to go mad and spend all his money - it had to last for at least the next seven years. And he would be sure not to tell his relatives that he had so much. They would be after it in a heartbeat, if they thought they could get away with it.

The ride back to the surface was just as fun as the ride down, and they emerged from Gringott's Bank, Harry blinking in the sunlight.

"Where should we go first, Professor?" he asked, unsure. He pulled his supplies list out of his pocket to go over it one more time.

"Madam Malkins for some robes, I should think," Snape said, sneering at Harry's hand me down clothes. "This way," and he lead Harry off, down the alley.

Now that he had gold in his pocket, everything seemed all the more interesting, if that was even possible. For the first time in his life, Harry could buy whatever he wanted. And robes seemed like a good idea. It would be nice to have some clothes that Dudley had never worn, and that fit properly.

As they entered the robe shop, he felt Professor Snape stop, just for a moment, before continuing one. Before Harry could wonder why, a squat witch came out to greet them.

"Professor Snape!" she said, smiling at his frowning face. "And a young man for Hogwarts, I see? We have another young man getting fitted in the back. This way."

Harry followed her into the back of the shop, where a pale, blond boy with a pointed face looked up as they walked in. He looked at Harry disinterestedly, before his gaze turned to Snape.

"Uncle Severus!" he exclaimed, and he must have moved and been poked by a needle, because he followed that with an exclamation of pain. "Ow!"

"Hello, Draco," Professor Snape said smoothly, a warmth in his tone that Harry hadn't yet heard. "Where are your mother and father?"

"Father had to go take care of some business," he said importantly, "And mother is just in the other room, giving an order for some day robes."

He looked at Harry again, as if he had just become something worth notice, and Professor Snape spoke.

"Ah. Draco, this is Harry Potter. I'm escorting him to get his school supplies. Potter, this is Draco Malfoy, one of your future classmates, and my godson."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, trying his best to sound confident.

"Nice to meet you, too," he said, staring at Harry with a new intensity.

The squat witch lead Harry onto a stool, where she started measuring him for his school uniform.

"Why is Uncle Severus-" Draco started, before Snape interrupted him.

"It's Professor Snape, now, Draco, you'd best get used to it," he said.

The boy rolled his eyes.

" _Professor Snape_ , then. Why is he taking you to get your things?"

"My aunt and uncle are muggles, and I don't think they're interested in coming to Diagon Alley," Harry said, somewhat shortly.

"Oh," the boy said, glancing at Professor Snape. "Well, you're lucky that it's him. Professor Snape is the best teacher at Hogwarts."

Harry grinned a bit. Of course Malfoy thought his godfather was the best teacher there was.

"I am," he agreed, thinking of the way Snape had handled his aunt.

Draco seemed pleased that he agreed.

"Well, if you've been raised by muggles, you've got a lot to learn. I can help you there," he said, rather self-importantly.

"I'd like that," Harry replied. Truthfully, he had been somewhat worried that he wouldn't be able to fit in at Hogwarts, considering he hadn't even known it had existed until three days ago.

A curtain was pulled back, and a tall blonde witch entered the changing room, wearing what looked like silk robes.

"I hope you're making friends, Draco," she said softly, before looking to Professor Snape. "Severus. I didn't realize you would be in the alley today."

"It was a last-minute decision," Professor Snape said quickly. "Narcissa, this is Harry Potter. Potter, meet Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Harry said, a bit shyly. She was much prettier than his aunt, and somewhat more intimidating.

"And you as well, Mr. Potter," she said warmly. "I hope your enjoying your trip so far?"

"Yes ma'am," he said immediately. "Diagon Alley is amazing!"

"Really, dear, you must call me Cissa," she said. "Have you just begin shopping?"

"Yes, ma'am - um, Cissa," Harry said. "We've only been to Gringotts so far."

"Well, this is our first stop, also," she said, clearly pleased. "Why don't you and Professor Snape join us for the rest of our trip?"

"Can you, Professor?" Draco asked pleadingly. Harry turned his own wide gaze on Snape, who's lips twitched with what just might be a smile.

"I suppose that would be acceptable."

Cissa smiled at him, and Harry returned the expression.

"Lucius will be meeting us at Flourish and Blott's as soon as we're done here," she said. "Draco's father," she added to Harry's questioning look.

"So, what was it like, being raised by muggles?" Malfoy asked, as his mother and Professor Snape turned away to have their own discussion.

"Horrible," Harry said quickly, then paused, surprised he had admitted that much. But he didn't want to lie to his new friend, and he decided he didn't need to go into details. "They hate magic."

Malfoy's nose wrinkled.

"That's terrible," he said solemnly. "I can't _imagine_. Have you even heard of quidditch?"

Harry shook his head.

"Merlin! It's the best sport that is!" he exclaimed, and delved into the game, detailed the seven players on each team, the three balls, and the best broomsticks.

He was just whispering to Harry that he was going to try and smuggle a broom into Hogwarts, as first years weren't allowed them, when the witch who was measuring Harry straightened.

"That's you done, dear," she said cheerily. "Do you just want the basic black, or is there anything else?"

"Um," Harry said, glancing up at Professor Snape, who spoke.

"Perhaps some day robes?" he suggested, and Harry nodded. It would be a good idea to get something besides his uniform, he thought.

"Yes, that," he said, and the woman helped him pick out some colors.

Harry and Draco left the shop, and, as Harry listened to Draco talk about the four Hogwarts Houses and his hopes to get into Slytherin, he thought that he might have made his second friend.


	4. holly & yew

Professor Snape opened the door as Harry, Malfoy, and Narcissa arrived, allowing them to enter before him. As soon as he was inside, Harry's gaze was drawn to the titles lining the wall. There must have been hundreds of books in Flourish and Blotts, and as he glanced down at his list, he wondered how he was meant to find the ones he wanted.

"Lucius is late," he heard Professor Snape comment to Cissa. He looked back, and saw her shake her head slightly.

"He went to Knockturn," she muttered. Harry had the feeling he hadn't been meant to hear that, and turned back around quickly.

Harry followed Malfoy through the bookshelves. The other boy seemed to know where he was going, and Harry was content to let him lead.

"Look," he said, pointing at a shelf in the back. "Here's the Defense books. What do we need, again?"

"The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble," Harry read from the list, and Malfoy started scanning the titles.

"Ah, here it is!" he exclaimed. Harry was about to comment that there was only one copy - where was he supposed to get his? - when Draco pulled the book off the shelf. Immediately, another copy slid out from behind it.

"Wicked," Harry muttered, taking his own book and holding it in the crook of his arm. "Do you come here often?" he asked Malfoy as they left the section and moved up towards the second floor.

"Sometimes," he said with a shrug. "We have a library at home, but I still like to look around when we come to Diagon. There's usually something new to read."

"I don't get the chance to read, much," Harry said as he pulled a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them off the shelf. "But I think I'd like to."

Malfoy gave him an odd sort of look.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Um, I was usually too busy to read, and besides, there aren't many books at my relative's house," he said, thinking that maybe he shouldn't have said anything.

"Busy with what?" Malfoy pressed, as if he couldn't imagine being too busy to read.

"Er, chores and stuff," he said.

Malfoy made a face.

"You have to do chores?" he asked incredulously. "But you're the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"I didn't even know that before today!" Harry snapped back, irritated. "My aunt and uncle told me my parents died in a car crash."

"Oh," Malfoy said quietly, obviously stunned. "Sorry."

"Sorry I yelled," Harry replied immediately. "I just... I don't think I like to talk about it."

"It's okay. But things will be different now, won't they?"

"I hope so."

But Harry didn't think they would be.

The two boys finished collecting their books, with Harry picking up a couple of extra titles on the Malfoy's and Professor Snape's recommendation. Harry was particularly pleased with the extra potions book, because as the potions professor, Snape knew exactly what would be needed in class.

Just as they were about to pay, the door of Flourish and Blotts opened to reveal a man with long blond in black robes. He headed straight for them, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Narcissa," he greeted, leaning to kiss her on the cheek. He placed his hand on Draco's shoulder, and glanced down at Harry curiously before looking to Professor Snape.

"Lucius," Snape said. "We met up with your wife and son at Madam Malkin's, and Draco asked if we could shop together. We saw no harm in it. This is Harry Potter. Mr. Potter, this is Lucius Malfoy."

A strange look appeared on Mr. Malfoy's face, before clearing away.

"Mr. Potter," he said, offering Harry his hand. Harry shook it. "What a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well, sir," Harry said.

"I must say I'm surprised to see you with Severus," he commented, glancing over at the professor, who raised an eyebrow.

"A last-minute choice by the headmaster," Snape muttered. "It's good to see Draco making friends already," he said louder, and it was clear that he wished to change the subject.

"Indeed," Mr. Malfoy drawled, looking between his son and Harry. "Do you have all of your books yet?" he asked, looking down at Draco, who nodded.

"Yes, father," he said a bit pompously. "And _Professor Snape_ helped us select a few more books, as well."

"Did he?" Mr. Malfoy smiled. "How nice of him. Be careful, Severus, or one might accuse you of favoritism."

Snape shook his head. Harry thought that, if he was a different sort of man, he might have even rolled his eyes.

"All of my suggestions are given to those who ask for them, Lucius, and many do," he said pointedly. "Now, I think we ought to be going. There are still many things to buy."

Mr. Malfoy paid for Draco's books, and Harry bought his own. The large bag he was given was filled to the brim.

"I think the luggage shop should be next," Professor Snape said, eying the heavy bag. "We can store your things in your new trunk."

This was agreeable to everyone in the group, and together, they made their way down the alley into a store was emblazoned with _Luxury Luggage_ , and advertised 'expansion charms 10% off!' and 'multi-room trunks, a must-have!'

Curious, Harry looked around the store as he entered. Space apart were several types of trunks, and one wall was lined with bags of all sorts.

"Welcome to Luxury Luggage!" came a voice from the back of the store. "How can I help you today? New Hogwarts students, perhaps?" The man who emerged from behind the counter was short, plump, and balding, with an open and friendly look on his face.

"Yes, my son and hi _s_ friend are looking to buy their trunks," Mr. Malfoy said smoothly, his hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Of course, of course, sir," the man said jovially. "We have the standard trunks for students, with a single, expanded compartment - for an extra two galleons, it customizes the color based on your sorting."

Mr. Malfoy looked unimpressed, and Harry glanced at Professor Snape, who seemed almost amused.

Since Draco was his godson, Harry guessed that Mr. Malfoy and the professor were old friends. The way that Professor Snape behaved around him made him think that they were pretty close friends, as well. He wondered if Draco would be favored at school because of it.

"I think, for Draco here, we'll need something a little bit, well, _more_ ," Mr. Malfoy said silkily. "Perhaps a multi-compartment trunk?"

The salesman's eyes gleamed a bit at this, and Harry wondered how much a multi-compartment trunk cost, and what, exactly, it was.

"Naturally! How many compartments were you looking for? We have a nice model with three, one of which is a library that sorts your books. It features expansion and feather light charms and security enchantments, as well."

"I want a trunk that sorts my books," Draco said self importantly, looking up at his father. "That sounds useful."

Looking pleased, the salesman looked at Harry.

"And what about you, young sir," he said, his pleased mood indicating he expected a similar sale from Harry.

Harry looked at Professor Snape for guidance.

"You'll want a trunk that will last you until your seventh year," he said. "Two compartments and library seems suitable."

"Can I see it?" Harry asked the salesman hesitantly, unused to this sort of interaction.

"I have an example right this way," the salesperson said, gesturing to the left. He lead Harry, and Draco who follow him, to one of the trunks that was set up. It was brown leather with brass accents, and it looked expensive.

The plump salesman leaned over to the trunk.

"It's protected by a password of your choosing," he said, "And you see the knob, here? You turn it to determine which compartment you open."

"Can I get black and silver?" Draco asked, examining the trunk.

"Me too," Harry said quickly. He liked the idea of black, and besides, he wanted to be like Draco, who was confident and didn't have to look to anyone for help or permission.

Looking very pleased with himself, the salesman nodded.

"Very good! Two premium student trunks in black and silver, coming right up," he said, heading to the back of the shop.

Harry fidgeted on his feet as he waited, but soon noticed that both Draco and the elder Malfoys, as well as Professor Snape, stood still and dignified. He forced himself to stop moving and imitate Draco straight posture, but it was difficult.

A moment later, the salesman returned with his wand out and two identical black trunks floating in the air. He set them down in front of Harry and Draco with a flourish, smiling all the while.

"You can set the locks yourselves," he said, patting the trunk in front of Harry. "Just tap them with your wands three times and say the password you want. If you need to reset the password, just bring the trunk back here, but you'll need the wands you used to set them. That will be twenty galleons each," he added.

Harry pulled out his bag of gold, wandering vaguely if it was a good price but not caring much. Mr. Malfoy paid for Draco's, and then he took on trunk, and Professor Snape took the other one, lifting them as though they were much lighter than they looked.

Leaving behind a very pleased businessman, the door shut behind them. Taking a moment to stow their books and robes into their trunks, they stood still for a moment.

"The apothecary next, perhaps?" Professor Snape suggested, and they headed off to the next shop.

The apothecary was an interesting sort of place, but it smelled very strongly and Harry was glad to be done of the place when they were finished. They had both gotten the same ingredients, recommended by the professor, and had put them in their new trunks.

They got the rest of their supplies, until only their wand was left.

"Can we go to Ollivander's now, mother?" Draco asked eagerly, and Harry waited with bated breath for the answer.

Narcissa smiled, and so did Lucius. Even Professor Snape looked less stern.

"Of course," she said softly.

Ollivander's turned out to be an old, dingy looking shop, with a single wand on a cushion displayed in the clouded window. The sign read _Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._ , and Harry wondered if the family had really been making wands that long.

A bell rang as they entered. Inside the store was a single spindly looking chair, a counter, and thousands upon thousands of long, thin boxes that Harry guessed must contain wands lining the walls.

It seemed they were alone, and Harry began to wonder how a person got a wand, exactly. Were they all different? What were they made of?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a voice. He jumped slightly, and so did Draco, but the adults looked like they had been expecting it.

"Good afternoon," the soft, slightly hoarse voice said.

"Hello," Harry said awkwardly. He was the only one who responded.

"Yes, Harry Potter," the man, who must be Ollivander, said. "I was wondering when I would see you here." He gave Harry an intense stare. "You have your mother's eyes," he said, and Harry felt Professor Snape stiffen behind him. "It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

He moved closer to Harry, and Harry forced himself not to shrink back.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it – it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course. And that’s where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger.

"I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... Well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

"And young Mr. Malfoy as well," he exclaimed, turning to Draco, who looked about as creeped out at Harry was. "Yes, I'm not surprised to see you either. And Lord Malfoy, of course - elm. Lady Malfoy - hazel, I believe. And Professor Snape," he continued. "Rowan. Unusually rigid."

"If you don't mind, Ollivander," Professor Snape said, sounding like his teeth were almost clenched. "We're here to buy the children their first wands. Not to reminisce."

"Of course, of course. Who wishes to go first, then?" Ollivander said, apparently unfazed.

Harry and Draco glanced at each other, and Harry made a kind of go-ahead gesture. Looking pleased, Draco stepped forward.

Mr. Ollivander reached into his pocket and pulled out a tape measure. He stepped forward, and began to measure Draco's height, then from wrist to elbow, from elbow to shoulder, from shoulder to neck - and continued on, measuring in odder and odder places. And then, to Harry's astonishment, the tape measure began to move on its own as Ollivander stepped away and began to gather boxes.

He waved his own wand, and the tape measure flew back into his pocket.

"Now, let's see," he muttered, before pulling out a wand from a box. "Willow and dragon heartstring," he said, handing it to Draco. The other boy took the wand, and gave it a hesitant wave. Ollivander snatched it back almost right away.

"Not at all," he said. Draco tried another wand, and then another, before taking a hawthorn and unicorn hair wand. Silver-white sparks shot out almost immediately as he took it, and Ollivander applauded.

"Very well done!" he said, smiling broadly. "Now, Mr. Potter..." he trailed off, looking at Harry. "Yes. What's your wand hand?"

"I'm right-handed, sir," Harry said.

"Of course. Let's measure you up." And Ollivander began to use the tape measure again, just as he did with Draco. Only this time, as he left the tape measure to its own devices, he got distracted.

It was measuring between Harry's nostrils when Ollivander realized what was happening.

"That's quite enough!" he snapped, and the tape measure fell to the floor. "Now, Mr. Potter - beechwood and dragon heartstring, try."

Harry took the wand, but it was like holding a cold bit of wood. Nothing special at all.

"No! Maple and phoenix feather, here -"

The wand was another dud.

"I don't think so - ebony and unicorn hair, springy - try it out!"

No sparks shot out from this wand, either.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

As Harry took the wand, he realized that it was warm in his hand. More than that, it was hot, and the heat was spreading up his arm. But it didn't hurt, it was more like stepping into a hot bath. Almost soothing.

He raised the wand and brought it down in a large arc, and gold and silver sparks shot out with the force of a firework.

Harry grinned.

"Oh, bravo! Very well done indeed, Mr. Potter. But it's curious... oh yes, very curious..."

"Sorry," Harry said, wondering what Mr. Ollivander was on about. "But what's curious?"

"I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry's eyes widened. Everyone in the room but Ollivander froze, and there was silence.

His wand was like the Dark Lord's?

"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember … I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great. Seven galleons each, for the wands."

Silently, Harry and Mr. Malfoy paid. Harry noticed that Mr. Malfoy was staring at him in a speculative fashion.

Harry wasn't sure he liked it.

They left the shop, rather more subdued then they had been when they entered. Harry wondered to himself, though he didn't dare ask, what it all meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much of Ollivander's dialogue is lifted directly from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.  
> Also - thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed, left kudos, and followed!


	5. a familiar bond

The mood was somewhat restrained in the odd group as they made their way out into Diagon Alley. Harry felt awkward and out of place, and the holly wand in his pocket felt like it was going to explode, he was so aware of it.

Harry knew very little about the man who had killed his parents and tried to kill him. The man Professor Snape called _the Dark Lord_.

He didn't even know his name.

Harry just knew that they shared a wand core, and that a phoenix must be some kind of bird if his core was a feather.

He looked at Professor Snape, and then looked down. Maybe he could explain it to him, sometime. Harry would ask, maybe once they were alone.

He glanced over at Draco, hoping he hadn't ruined the other boy's day. After all, he wanted Malfoy to be his friend, and if he was mad at Harry for what happened at Ollivander's, then he wouldn't want to be around Harry.

Draco's eyes met his, and he must have seen something, because he turned towards his mother.

"Can we go get my owl, now?" he asked, a whine in his voice. Then he winked at Harry. "You said you'd buy me a pet."

Harry smiled. He knew what Draco was doing, and he appreciated it.

"Of course, Draco. Look, there's the Magical Menagerie," Narcissa said, pointing the building out. "And are you going to bring a pet, Harry?"

Harry frowned. Professor Snape never had answered his question about Persephone. He reached into his shirt, where she was still asleep, and poked her awake before carefully winding her around his wrist and pulling her out.

"I have Persephone already," he said carefully. "I don't think I need another pet."

He remembered what Professor Snape had said about speaking to snakes, and so he didn't say anything to her. Still, the Malfoy's were all staring at him as if they'd seen something very odd, indeed.

"You have a pet snake?" Draco asked. "Wicked! Can I get a pet snake, too?" he asked, turning towards his father, and then Professor Snape.

"You wouldn't be able to take it to Hogwarts," Professor Snape warned.

Harry frowned.

"Does that mean I can't take Perse to Hogwarts, either?" he asked.

Professor Snape looked at the serpent speculatively.

"I suspect you will be able to bring her. Exceptions can be made, especially when a familiar bond is already in place, which I believe to be the case here. You've had her since you were nine?" He asked Harry.

"Yes, sir," Harry confirmed.

"And do you spend a great deal of time with her?"

Harry nodded.

"We can cast the spell to confirm it later, but I believe she is bigger than a common grass snake usually grows, which can be one of the signs of a familiar bond."

"Wow," Draco said, and Harry looked at him. He was staring longingly at Persephone. "A familiar. That is _so_ cool."

"Thanks," Harry said, puzzled. "I don't know what a familiar bond is, though."

"You purchased a book that should have some information on it," Professor Snape said. "But, essentially, it's a magical bond between an animal and a witch or wizard. Your magic permeates the animal, making it larger and more intelligent. Sometimes, the familiar even gains magical powers of its own. It is extremely rare."

As Professor Snape spoke, Harry started to understand why he was a teacher. He had a way of speaking that drew your attention.

"Wow," Harry said, looking down at Persephone in awe. "That's amazing."

"I suggest you purchase a vivarium for her, so that she has a warm place to go while at Hogwarts," Professor Snape continued. "While she seems to like being around your waist," and here, there was a note of amusement to his voice, "there might come a time when you need to leave her in your dorm."

"Okay," Harry said, letting Persephone slither back under his shirt. "That sounds like something she'd like."

They entered the Magical Menagerie, Draco immediately making a beeline for the owl cages, his mother and father following him. Harry went over to the reptiles. There were several lizards and snakes. He could hear the snakes talking to each other, but it was the simple speak that Persephone had used when he had first found her.

He had thought that it was just him teaching her, but maybe his magic _had_ made her smarter.

The proprietor came over to him, and Professor Snape spoke up.

"We need a vivarium suitable for a large snake," he said. "She's three feet long now, but she may grow larger."

"Certainly," the woman said genially. "We have a very nice model that's four times the size inside and provides magical sunlight during the day."

"Will she mind being in an extension charm?" Harry asked, having picked up on the term at the trunk shop.

"No," the saleswoman said kindly. "It's just the same as a non-expanded space. She won't even notice when you move the cage around. There's a large window to look inside, as well, and it comes fully furnished with plants and substrate."

That sounded nice to Harry.

"Okay, I'll buy it for her," he said with a decisive nod. "Only - how big is it, on the outside?"

"Quite small. Only about thirty centimeters long and half as wide when it's shrunken. Easy to carry."

She brought out the vivarium, and Harry encouraged Persephone to enter it. The snake started to explore the large space, and Harry closed the lid.

"Would you like some preserved mice or rats for her?"

"Will she like to eat them, if they aren't live?" Harry would have asked Perse, but she was busy. Besides, he was keeping his ability a secret, for now.

"Most snakes do. Why don't you buy half a dozen, and I'll give you a catalog. You can order more by owl post."

"Okay," Harry said agreeably, and the small vivarium was placed in his trunk, where Professor Snape assured him Persephone would be perfectly safe and happy.

Draco appeared with a handsome looking bird in a cage.

"He's an eagle owl," he said to Harry proudly.

"He's big," Harry, who had never seen an owl up close before, said. "Will you write to me?" he added impulsively. "Over the rest of the summer, I mean."

Draco grinned.

"Yeah, of course!"

So reassured of their new friendship, Harry followed Draco out of the shop.

Harry was quite reluctant to leave Diagon Alley and step back into the muggle world, as Draco called it. But they had purchased everything they needed for Hogwarts, and so there was no more reason to stay.

Narcissa kissed him on the cheek when they parted, and Harry looked up at her with such reverence that she smiled. After all, he had never been kissed before, like from a mother.

"If the muggles give you any trouble," Mr. Malfoy had said, shaking his hand firmly, "You must tell Draco."

"I will, sir," he said, and Mr. Malfoy nodded at him, apparently satisfied.

"I'll write to you, and tell Mercury to wait for a reply," Draco said. "And tell me all about the rest of your summer."

"It's going to be boring," Harry said with a grin. "But I'll write all about it."

They parted, Harry and Professor Snape heading out of Diagon Alley into London, and called the Knight Bus. Again, they sat near the back, and again, Professor Snape cast a spell before speaking.

"It would be best," the professor said, seeming to hesitate a little bit, "that you not mention anything to anyone about having brother wands with the Dark Lord."

"Like speaking to snakes?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Some people might get the wrong impression."

"Oh. What does it mean, though, about the wand?"

"It's very complicated, very old magic," Professor Snape said, "and not very well understood even by fully qualified wizards."

Harry took that to mean that he hadn't learned enough magic to understand it yet. That made sense - he didn't know any magic at all.

"And I was wondering one other thing," Harry said. "The Dark Lord... who is he? What's his name? I only ask because everyone else seems to know," he added quickly, to Professor Snape's cross expression.

He sighed suddenly, looking weary.

"Very well," he said. "But you must promise me that you won't repeat the name, do you understand? He is the Dark Lord, or You-Know-Who."

"I understand," Harry said quickly.

"He is known as _Lord Voldemort_." Snape whispered the name furtively, as if he might be struck down for speaking it. Harry nodded decisively, committing the name to memory.

Lord Voldemort. The man who killed his parents.

* * *

Harry returned to a changed house on Privet Drive. His things, such as they were, had been moved into Dudley's second bedroom, and he no longer had to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. He was also not expected to do any more gardening or other chores, as his relatives ignored him completely.

This was a relief in many ways. With Persephone to keep him company, twice-weekly letters from Draco, and his new books, he had plenty to keep him company without the Dursley's.

Draco was eager to learn about the muggle world, and Harry found himself having to explain everything from electricity to telephones to computers. The other boy was particularly fascinated by the concept of television and movies, and Harry wondered if he would be able to take Draco out sometime.

Perhaps next summer.

Harry, in turn, asked Draco all about growing up in a wizarding house. It seemed a lot better than the muggle way.

He counted down the days until the first of September. Even with his familiar, his new friend, and his books to occupy his time, he couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts. To actually learn magic.

His books were so interesting. Even more so than muggle books. There was more in the world than he had ever imagined - dragons and mermaids and centaurs, hidden towns, even the plants were different. And the muggles lived their lives having no idea about any of it.

Harry read about memory charms and illusion wards and notice-me-not spells and more, all the ways that the magical community remained hidden. It was a bit scary, to tell the truth, and Harry was glad he was on the side of magic.

Persephone liked hearing about the different magical creatures. She was interested in the magical snakes, like the basilisk, ashwinder, or runespoor. The basilisk, and in particular it's size, fascinated her.

"How big will I get?" she asked Harry, curled around his neck as he read and looking at the illustrations.

"I don't know. Professor Snape says you'll grow big because of my magic, though," Harry said.

"I hope so," she hissed. "I want to be big enough to eat Dudley."

Harry laughed.

"Maybe," he said, but he doubted she would get _that_ big. Still, the idea of being able to intimidate the Dursley's with Perse was appealing.

He only wished she was venomous.

The evening before September First, there was a knock at his bedroom door. Persephone quickly slid under the bed, used to hiding from his relatives, and Harry sat up.

"Boy," his aunt greeted. "You're to go to that school tomorrow?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, wondering why she had visited him.

"Do you need a ride to London?" she asked stiffly.

Harry was amazed. He never would have expected her to care.

"I was going to take the Knight Bus," he said, "but -"

"Good," she said, before he could finish. "We don't need to waste our time, then." And she turned, and slammed the door behind her.

Persephone peeked her head up from under the blankets.

"That was interesting," she said, slithering up to her previous position around Harry's shoulders.

"She probably just wants to make sure I don't stick around for the school year."

"Well, good riddance. It would be better if you never had to come back," she hissed menacingly.

"I doubt that's going to happen," Harry said, resigned to the fact that he would have to remain with the Dursley's until he turned seventeen. Still, at least he would spend most of the year away from them.

The next morning, Harry woke up as the sun was rising, too excited to sleep any longer. He packed his trunk, persuaded Persephone to get into the vivarium, and pulled his trunk down the stairs. The Dursley's were eating breakfast, and they paused to stare at him.

"Well," he said awkwardly. "Bye."

And with that, he left Privet Drive until the next summer.


	6. platform 9 3/4

Standing in the street in front of Number Four, Harry held out his wand, as Professor Snape had done before. And just like before, the purple triple-decker bus appeared with a _bang_.

The conductor appeared, but before he could begin his speech Harry shoved a handful of silver sickles into his hand.

"I'd like to go to King's Cross, please," he said, unable to contain his eager tone.

"You, and half of the country," he grumbled, but he took the money anyway, and helped Harry with his trunk.

The Knight Bus was packed with people, most of them students. Harry got the last chair, with the vivarium on his lap and the trunk up on its side next to him. They picked up more people on their way, and by the time they got to King's Cross, it was already almost time for the train to leave.

The passengers shuffled out, Harry in their midst. He was very glad no one had recognized him, at least not yet, and kept his hair firmly over his forehead and his gaze down. He didn't need another scene like the one in the Leaky Cauldron.

As he entered the train station, Harry took out his ticket and examined it for the first time.

Platform 9 3/4? Was there such a place? He supposed there must be, if it was on his ticket.

Wishing he had left Persephone out of the vivarium for the trip, even though he knew she would have hated the crowded bus, he loaded his trunk onto a trolley. He followed the crowd, among the rest of the witches and wizards headed for Hogwarts.

What a sight their group must have made. They numbered at least a dozen students, along with their parents, trunks, and pets, and together, they walked to Platform 10.

"Are you alone?" the voice came from his right side, and he turned to look at the student who stood there. A tall, thin boy stood there, looking down at him in a concerned sort of way.

"Yeah," Harry said, a little defensively.

The older student looked curious, but didn't ask, for which Harry was grateful. He reached through the bars of a cage to pet his cat, a calico, and asked another question.

"You're a first year, aren't you?"

"I am," Harry said. "Why?"

"Do you need help getting onto the platform?"

"That would be great, thanks," he said, relieved.

"No problem," the boy said, and his cat meowed loudly. He rolled his eyes. "Sorry about Morpheus. He doesn't like the cage."

Harry laughed a bit.

"I wouldn't, either," he said, thinking of the cupboard under the stairs.

"My name is Terrance Higgs," the boy said, offering Harry his hand. Unthinkingly, Harry took it and introduced himself in turn.

"Harry Potter."

Higgs gaped, before quickly pulling himself together.

"Are you really?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Harry said with a shrug. 

"Wow. I didn't expect - well, anyway, look at the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. You see, there?" and he pointed. "Look, someone's about to go through."

A young witch, a couple of years older than Harry and clutching a cat to her chest, leaned against the barrier. Harry blinked, and she was gone.

"How does it work?"

Higgs laughed.

"No idea. It's a complicated enchantment that's been there for ages. If you're nervous, you'd better run for it."

"Just run at the barrier?"

"That's right. You go first, Potter. And don't worry so much, okay?"

"Okay," Harry said, and wheeled his trolley around.

Taking a deep breath, he started forward, and broke into a run. Just as he was about to reach the barrier, he closed his eyes. But no crash came. Instead, he felt a breeze on his face, and slowed to a stop. Opening his eyes, he saw a crimson train and a sign that read _Platform 9 3/4_.

"Wow," Harry said under his breath. If he thought there were a lot of people on the Knight Bus, that was nothing to the number on the platform. Witches and wizards of all ages milled around, the students with their trunks. Some wore what Harry had started to think of as muggle clothing, but others wore robes, or a strange combination of both.

There was a tap on his shoulder. He turned, and Higgs stood over him, grinning.

"Well done," he said. "Let's get your trunk on the train."

Even though it had a feather light charm on it, the trunk was still cumbersome, especially when Harry added the vivarium, so he was grateful for the help. Higgs lead him to the back of the train, where there were still empty compartments, and helped him stow the trunk away in one.

"Well, enjoy the ride, Potter. There's nothing like your first trip to Hogwarts," he said, clapping Harry on the back. "Hope to see you in Slytherin."

"Maybe," Harry said, and Higgs laughed.

"Maybe," he agreed. "See you there." And he turned, and left.

Harry settled into the compartment, not sure if he should go and look for Draco or not. He had very nearly been late, and the train would start at any moment. Harry looked out the window onto the platform as he waited. Most of the students had already boarded, but there was a red-headed family that was still boarding. He watched as the youngest, a girl, started crying as her brothers boarded the train. 

She must be too young, Harry thought, and felt a little bad for her. Still, she was lucky to have such a big family, and they obviously cared about her.

He turned away from them, and the train began to move.

Harry watched the station disappear from view, before reaching for Persephone's enclosure.

"Are you awake?" he hissed, opening the top. He wanted to speak to her while he was still alone. Harry had explained to her that he had to keep his ability a secret, and she had sulked for hours. Eventually, she had agreed, and as they had been working on her understanding of the English language, it wouldn't be so bad. She would still know what was going on.

Persephone slithered out and under his shirt, to her usual spot.

"Are we on the train?" she asked, nestling her head against his neck.

"Yeah, we're on our way," Harry said, running a finger down her back. She gave a sort of contented hiss. 

The door opened, and one of the redheads Harry had observed from the train was standing there.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked. "Everywhere else seems full."

Harry shrugged a bit. Truthfully, he wasn't finished talking with Persephone. But he didn't want to say that to the boy.

"Sure," he said, and the other boy entered and sat down across from him.

"I'm Ron Weasley," he said, introducing himself. "And this is Scabbers," he added, pulling out a grey rat from his pocket.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said, but before he could introduce Persephone, the boy gasped loudly.

"Are you really?" he asked excitedly. "Have you really got, you know...?" and he pointed at Harry's forehead.

"A scar?" Harry completed. He pulled his fringe aside to show the jagged, lightning-bolt mark that crossed his forehead. He might as well show him, even if he thought that it was kind of rude to ask. He was just another first year, after all.

"So that's where-"

"Yeah," Harry said, cutting him off. He was finding Ron Weasley to more irritating by the minute. Professor Snape and the Malfoy's hadn't pointed at his scar, and neither had Higgs. "That's where I was cursed."

His voice must have come out harsher than he intended, because Ron looked cowed.

"Sorry," Ron muttered, face going slightly red. Harry tried to ignore his guilty feeling. He hadn't done anything wrong, after all.

"Are all your family wizards?" he asked, wanting to change the subject. 

"Er - yes, I think so,’" said Ron, looking relieved. "I think Mum’s got a second cousin who’s an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"Why not?"

"What?"

"Why don't you ever talk about your mother's cousin?" Harry was curious. Did wizards not have accountants?

"Well, he's a squib," Ron said. Seeing Harry's puzzled expression, he elaborated. "A person without magic who has magical parents. Kind of like the opposite of a muggleborn."

Harry frowned.

"Does that mean he lives with muggles, then?" he asked.

"I guess so. _I_ sure wouldn't want to live with magic and not be able to use it.

Harry wondered if squibs were common, and if they were, did they all live in the muggle world? It must be awful, to know that magic existed, to grow up with magical parents, and not be able to take part in anything. But was it worth giving up your family?

Once again, Harry changed the subject. He didn't think that Ron knew much about squibs _or_ muggles.

"Do you already know a lot of magic?" he asked.

"Nah. You can't get a wand until you turn eleven, and mum and dad never let me try with theirs. "I heard you went to live with muggles. What are they like?"

"Horrible," Harry said thoughtlessly. "Well, not all of them," he added quickly. "My relatives are, though. I saw your family on the platform. How many brothers do you have?"

"Five," Ron said, and for some reason, he sounded miserable. "I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left - Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was captain of quidditch. Now Percy’s a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they’re really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers."

Harry had a hard time feeling sorry for Ron. He would give anything to have his parents still alive or to have brothers or sisters. Instead, he was stuck with the Dursley's, who hated his guts.

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he said too much. Harry was about to try and reassure him, when Persephone poked her head out from his shirt collar. Ron yelped.

"Merlin! There's a snake!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. "Hold on, I'll get a prefect. They'll vanish it for you."

 _Vanish_ Persephone? Harry was horrified at the very idea.

"Stop," he said loudly, reaching for his wand just in case. "She's my friend!"

Ron looked horrified.

"You mean that _thing_ is your pet?"

"She's not a thing," Harry said stiffly, moving to cover Perse with his hand. "She's my familiar."

If possible, Ron looked even more shocked.

"You've bonded with a snake?" he said, sounding disgusted at the idea. "Now you're going to tell me you want to be in Slytherin!"

"I might be," Harry said, barely holding onto his calm. "You don't know until you get there, do you?"

"You might be," Ron repeated faintly. 

"Why not?" Harry asked. "I've met the head of Slytherin house. He's very nice."

"You mean Snape? I've heard my brothers talk about him. He's supposed to be the nastiest teacher at Hogwarts."

Harry frowned. Snape hadn't been exactly warm and fuzzy, but he had introduced Harry to Diagon Alley, and had been kind enough when Harry had questions.

"He's not nasty," he said coldly. "He took me to Diagon Alley for my school things."

"Rotten luck, mate," Ron said, as if he wasn't picking up that Harry didn't agree with him. 

"I'm not your _mate,_ " Harry snapped. "Professor Snape was perfectly nice to me, and I'd be lucky to be in his house."

"You're barking if you think you'll end up there," Ron said, clearly bewildered. "You'll be in Gryffindor for sure."

"You don't know anything about me," Harry bit out. "How do you know where I'll be sorted?"

"But you're the Boy-Who-Lived!" Ron exclaimed. "Where else would you go?"

Harry was beginning to hate that name.

"All the houses have their merits," he said instead of repeating the insult he had heard Uncle Vernon use once. "That's what the books said."

"Not Slytherin," Ron said darkly. "It's full of dark wizards. You-Know-Who was a Slytherin."

"I don't care," Harry said, and he found it was true. His first human friend wanted to be in Slytherin. Draco's family was all in Slytherin. Professor Snape was head of Slytherin house. It couldn't be all that bad.

"You're mad," Ron whispered. "I bet you're a dark wizard, too," he said louder. "That's why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named went after you - to get rid of the competition!"

"Why don't you leave if you think that!" Harry nearly shouted. What a stupid idea.

"Fine, I will!" Ron shouted back, and stormed out of the compartment.

Harry shook his head.

"What a silly boy," Persephone said, and Harry laughed, bitterly. His second potential friend hadn't worked out so well at all.

"A very silly boy," Harry agreed. "Come on, let's go find Draco."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of Ron and Harry's dialogue is taken directly from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.


	7. the hogwarts express

Harry found Draco compartment's about five minutes later. He was sitting with two boys and a girl.

"Harry!" he exclaimed as Harry slid the compartment door open. He grinned. "I was just about to go look for you."

"Well, I got impatient," Harry said jokingly, not wanting to bring up Ron. "Who are your friends?"

"This is Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle," Draco said, gesturing to the two boys. "And this is Pansy Parkinson. Guys, this is Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, moving to sit down next to Pansy, who smiled at him.

"And all this time I thought Draco was lying about meeting _the_ Harry Potter," she said. "It's nice to meet you, too."

The two boys, Crabbe and Goyle, both grunted their greetings, and Harry smiled at them. Draco had mentioned them in his letters. He had said that neither spoke much, but they had been his friends for nearly as long as he could remember.

"Do you really have a pet snake?" Pansy asked, clearly interested. Persephone slithered out a moment later, apparently having heard Pansy's question.

"Oh, it's beautiful," Pansy said with a sigh. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Persephone is a girl," Harry said, and watched Perse preen at the praise with amusement.

"What a lovely name, too," Pansy said. "What kind of snake is she?"

"A grass snake," Harry said. "Or at least, I think so. I found her in my relative's garden when I was nine."

"She's big for a grass snake," Goyle said, peering at Persephone. "More pretty, too. Look, she shimmers in the sun."

Harry was a little bit surprised the Gregory spoke so much. From what Draco had said, he didn't expect to hear anything from him, at least not until they knew each other better. He looked at Persephone, wanting to see what Goyle was talking about, and noticed it immediately. Persephone had moved to sun herself in a beam of light, and as she shifted, her scales were iridescent.

How had he not realized that before? He was certain her scales hadn't done that when he had first met her and spent so much time in the garden with her. So she must have changed, and slowly enough that he hadn't seen it happen.

He wondered if it was the familiar bond that Professor Snape had told him about. Was it that powerful?

The thought was comforting. He had read in one of his books about familiars, and though it had only been half chapter, he knew that he was now hers as much as she was his. She would never leave him, and he would never leave her. And his magic would protect both of them.

"I guess she does," Harry said with a smile.

"Can I pet her?" Goyle asked, almost shyly. Harry bit his lip. He wanted to ask Persephone if it was okay with her, but he didn't dare speak to her, not now. Not when he was around people he didn't know yet. Goyle must have seen his hesitation, and looked disappointed.

Before Harry could apologize, Persephone slithered onto the other boy's lap. Goyle looked delighted, and Harry laughed.

"Of course you can," he said.

With a wide grin on his face, Goyle stroked Persephone's head with a large finger. She tasted the air before coiling up, apparently content to stay where she was.

"Cool," Goyle whispered, almost frozen in his seat, so that he wouldn't disturb the sleeping serpent.

"So, Harry," Pansy said, clearly ready to change the subject. "Draco told me you live with muggles. What are they like?"

He wondered if he would get that question a lot. If so, it was going to get irritating quickly.

"Well," he said, thinking his answer over more than he has with Ron Weasley, "my relatives are pretty awful." He was about to say that not all muggles were like that, of course, when he hesitated. He thought of all the teachers who had ignored him, all of the neighbors who gossiped about him. He hadn't met many decent people until Professor Snape came along,

"Let's just say, finding out I was a proper wizard was the best moment of my life," he said simply.

Pansy and Draco stared.

"You mean you didn't even know you were a wizard?" Draco asked, disbelieving. "What about accidental magic? Didn't you ever do anything like that?"

"Sure. But I never realized it was magic until I was nine, when," and here, he hesitated. _When Persephone had told him_. But he couldn't very well say that, could he? "When I figure out all the strange things that happened were because of me, and not a coincidence," he finished.

Draco looked suspicious, but Pansy didn't seem to mind his hesitation.

"But what about the Dark Lord?" she asked, clearly bewildered. "Didn't you know about him?"

"Not until Professor Snape told me," he said. "The Dursley's - that's my relatives - told me that my parents died in a car crash."

"What's a car?" Crabbe asked.

"Er, kind of like a horseless carriage," Harry said, struggling only for a moment to describe the concept.

He didn't say that the Uncle Vernon had said that his father had been drunk, that it had been his fault that his mother had been killed. That Harry had almost hated his parents for leaving him with the Dursley's, that he had wondered if they cared about him at all before they died.

That seemed too personal, too private.

"I wonder why they told you that?" Draco said. Harry shrugged.

"They hate magic," he said simply, "and anything they see as _unnatural_."

Pansy and Draco looked outraged.

"Magic _is_ natural!" Pansy exclaimed. "It's the most natural thing in the world."

"They don't think so," Harry said shortly. "It doesn't matter, anyway - I won't see them again until the summer. And I don't want to spend my first trip to Hogwarts talking about them."

Draco and Pansy still both looked outraged, but they seemed to be willing to let things lie, at least, for now.

"Did you ever convince your father to get you that broom, Draco?" Harry asked, desperate to change the subject. Draco pouted.

"No. Mother put her foot down. She said that I can wait a few months to get it."

Harry was a little bit surprised. From what he had seen of the Malfoy's, he would have assumed that Draco's father would be the one putting his foot down, not Narcissa.

"I can't wait to try flying on a broomstick," Harry said. "It sounds amazing."

"You've never flown before?" Pansy asked, clearly outraged.

"Muggle raised, remember?" Harry said. " _They_ don't think that brooms can fly."

"Well, flying is amazing," Draco said definitively. "You'll love it once we have the opportunity. What other classes are you looking forward to?"

"Potions," Harry said immediately, without thinking, his mind going to Professor Snape.

"Really? I'd have thought it was Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry shrugged. It was true, he was looking forward to learning to cast spells. But he was also worried that somehow he wouldn't be very good at it. But potions - that was enough like cooking that he thought he would be able to get the hang of it quickly.

But he didn't want to tell them that. So instead, he talked about the other reason he was looking forward to the lesson.

"Professor Snape seems like a good teacher."

"He is," Draco said proudly. "He's brilliant."

"Of course you think that, he's your godfather," Pansy said.

"That doesn't make it any less true," Draco pointed out reasonably.

Harry was about to ask was Draco and the others were excited about, when there was a knock at the door. It was an elderly witch, pushing a cart full of food.

"Anything of the trolley?" she asked, and all of them eagerly moved forward, except for Goyle, who asked Crabbe to get him some sweets.

The trolley witch left, and they spread their bounty out on the seats. Harry had never heard of the sweets that he had bought, but he had followed his new friend's lead. There were cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties, licorice wands, and more, and he was eager to try everything.

He bit into a pumpkin pasty, suddenly starving. He had, after all, skipped breakfast. Devouring the savory food, he reached for a Chocolate Frog.

"They're not actual frogs, are they?" he asked, hesitating for just a moment. He didn't know _what_ to expect.

"Just chocolate," Crabbe said in a reassuring sort of way. Harry opened the package, and the frog leaped for freedom. Harry managed to catch it a the last second, and moments later it went still in his hands. He took a bite. It was the best chocolate he had ever tasted - not that he had ever tasted much. Examining the card curiously, Harry read about Albus Dumbledore - the infamous headmaster of Hogwarts.

"People collect the cards," Pansy told him, so he pocketed it.

The other told him all about the different sweets and what they did, but it wasn't until the jelly beans that Harry hesitated.

"You mean it could be anything?" he asked, half fascinated, half horrified. "Not just sweet flavors?"

"Oh yeah," Draco said, biting into one a jelly slug with a grin. "You get all sorts. Candies and the like, but then you get flavors like onion or ketchup or even grass," he said with a disgusted face.

Harry ended up _not_ trying the Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

Persephone seemed curious about the sweets, and jealous that Harry was eating. He let her taste one of the ice mice, to which she exclaimed in disgust. Fell guilty for his amusement, Harry gave her one of the preserved mice from the Magical Menagerie, and they all watched, fascinated, as she consumed it.

Just as the tail disappeared down her throat, their compartment door slid open. A fellow first-year girl stood there, with lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth.

"Have any of you seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said in a bossy sort of way.

"No," Harry said, prepared to be polite about it, but then the girl spotted Persephone.

"That's a snake!" she said, seeming half outraged, half frightened. "They're not allowed. Only owls, cats, and toads. The letter said so."

"Professor Snape gave me permission to bring her," Harry said defensively, one hand curling around Persephone, who was somewhat slow after eating.

The girl sniffed.

"Well, I suppose if you have permission," she said haughtily, as if she didn't believe him. "What was it eating?" she asked suspiciously.

"A toad," Draco said with a nasty grin on his face. "It hopped in and Harry here set his snake on it."

"Shut up, Draco," Harry said with a laugh. "I fed her a mouse," he told the girl.

"Oh," she said, her impending anger deflating. "That's alright, then. I'm Hermione Granger," she said, introducing herself.

"Harry Potter," he said, trying to be polite.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."_

"Yes, I know," Harry said. "I've read them." They had been among the extra books he had gotten, as well.

Granger looked like she didn't know how to react to this.

"Just because you've read about Harry doesn't mean you know him," Draco interjected harshly. "Those books aren't even all that accurate, my father says."

Harry didn't know about the accuracy of the books, though he had taken the information with a grain of salt. No one had asked _him_ about them, after all. But he did think that Draco was right - just because she knew that he was the Boy-Who-Lived didn't mean she knew _him_.

"I suppose you have a point," she said, and she sounded almost reluctant, as though she didn't want to admit it. "Do any of you know what house you'll be in?" Hermione changed the subject. "I’ve been asking around and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad. Anyway, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon."

And with that, she left.

" _Ravenclaw wouldn't be_ too _bad. Gryffindor is the_ best," Draco said mockingly. "I'm glad I'm going to be in Slytherin, without _her_."

"How do you know?" Harry asked, bringing up something that concerned him ever since he had heard of Hogwarts Houses.

"My whole family has been." Draco was obviously proud of this fact. "Besides, I just _know_."

Harry himself was far from certain about which house he would go into.

"I don't even know what house my parents were in," he said, a miserable tone creeping into his voice.

"Gryffindor, I think," Pansy said cautiously. "The Potter's are well known for being in that house."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "How is my family well known at all?" He knew he was famous, but he hadn't realized his family was, too.

Pansy and Draco exchanged a look.

"Well," Draco said. "Your father was Lord Potter, wasn't he?"

" _Lord_ Potter? What does that even mean? Lord of what?"

"It's a title from the Wizengamot, the council that governs the wizarding world," Draco said. "Your family has been a member of the Wizengamot for, I don't know, centuries. They were pretty powerful and rich."

Harry had realized his family was wealthy, of course, but he hadn't realized they were a part of some council as well. He sat back, surprised. Snape couldn't have told him everything, of course - they only had so much time together, and there was so much to learn.

But Harry was starting to wonder what else he didn't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of Hermione's dialogue is taken from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.


	8. sorted

Perhaps his new friends sensed his dark mood, or perhaps they didn't want to discuss such heavy topics themselves. Whichever reason, for the rest of the train ride, however short it was, they discussed lighter things. Harry learned more about quidditch, and Draco bemoaned the fact that the first years weren't on the team. Pansy asked him questions about muggle fashion, to which he admitted ignorance, and the look she exchanged with Draco made him think they wanted to say something, but they didn't. 

Maybe they had noticed his baggy clothes, Harry thought, somewhat embarrassed.

Pansy, who was already in her wizarding robes, left the compartment briefly to allow Harry to change. He was glad that he had new robes, at least, and that Professor Snape had insisted on new shoes, as well. The leather boots were much more comfortable than his trainers from the charity shop, and they looked nicer, as well.

Harry wanted to make a good impression after all. He thought back to Ron Weasley, and mentally grimaced. Well, not everyone would like him, but at least he had some friends already.

As the train began to slow, Harry's heart began to pound. He was nearly there, and his mind had started to race. What if it was all a mistake? What if he didn't belong at Hogwarts after all? Sure, he had accepted that he could do magic, but what if he wasn't powerful enough? 

"Calm down, Harry," Draco said with a grin. "You're going to love Hogwarts."

Harry hoped so. Or, at least, he hoped that he fit in there.

Stuffing their pockets full of the rest of their sweets, Harry, Draco, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle stood once the train stopped, and joined the mass of students pushing their way out onto a dark platform, lit by torches.

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!" came the call, and Harry turned around, his eyes widening. A truly massive man was beckoning the first years towards him. 

"C’mon, follow me – any more firs’-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’-years follow me!" A little bit intimidated by the sheer _size_ of the man, Harry stepped forward, followed by his new friends.

"Who's that, I wonder?" Harry whispered to Draco.

"I think it's the groundskeeper," Draco said back, not bothering to whisper himself. "My father says he sometimes gets drunk and almost burns his hut down."

If the groundskeeper heard them, he didn't turn around. Holding his lantern high in the air, he lead the first-years forward, down a long, slippery path. They were forced to walk almost single file, it was so narrow. The pathway seemed quite long to Harry, and he wondered when he would see the school, and where the upper years had gone.

"Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus’ round this bend here."

There was a loud exclamation of excitement and awe. They had appeared at the edge of a huge black lake, shimmering in the moonlight. And across from it was a castle, a real castle, with turrets and towers and everything. It was bigger and more amazing than Harry had ever imagined Hogwarts to be, and he couldn't wait to see what it was like on the inside.

"No more’n four to a boat!" Hagrid shouted, and Harry realized that, at the edge of the lake, was a fleet of little rowboats, all without oars. He, Draco, and Pansy got into one, while Crabbe and Goyle went to find their own boat.

Just as they got comfortable, another boy stepped into their boat, not bothering to ask if he could join them.

"Hello, Draco," the boy said, apparently familiar with Malfoy, as he got comfortable next to Harry.

"Hello, Blase," Draco replied, and Harry couldn't tell from his tone how he felt about the boy.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, "Right then – FORWARD!"

The small fleet of rowboats started moving, and Harry turned to Draco, who blinked, and then spoke.

"Oh, right! Blaise, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Blaise Zabini."

The two boys looked each other over, and Harry felt as if he was being judged.

"Nice to meet you, Potter," Zabini said. "Though I'm surprised at your company."

Harry's brow furrowed.

"Why?" he asked.

Zabini laughed. It wasn't a cruel laugh, but it made Harry uncomfortable nonetheless.

"You have no idea, do you?" he asked. "Oh, this year is going to be more fun than I thought."

They all ducked their heads as they went under a long curtain of ivy; on the other side, the boats docked in a sort of cave. Harry clambered out, the rest of the boat's passengers following after him.

The group of first-years followed the groundskeeper up a flight of stone stairs to a pair of huge wooden doors, where he knocked on them with three loud _booms_.

The doors swung open, and Harry almost forgot to breathe, he was so excited. The open doors reveal a tall woman in green robes, with a stern look on her face.

"The firs’-years, Professor McGonagall," said the gigantic man.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

So the groundskeeper's name was Hagrid, and the strict looking witch was Professor McGonagall. Harry committed the names to memory.

Harry moved with the rest of the first-years through the Entrance Hall, which was bigger than any room Harry had ever been in before, and into a side chamber. They gathered around her, waiting for instruction.

Professor McGonagall began speaking, though much of what she said was information that Harry had already gotten from Professor Snape. But Harry assumed that not everyone got a visit from a professor, so the speech was necessary. 

The only news was that of the Sorting Ceremony. Harry had already figured out that they would be placed into the four houses somehow, but he hadn't given thought to how that would happen. He certainly hadn't assumed it would be in front of the whole school.

He turned to Draco. His panic must have been obvious on his face, because Draco quickly leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"My parents wouldn't tell me what the sorting was, but father said it was nothing to worry about," he said. Harry hoped that Draco was right, and that it wasn't some kind of test. He shifted on his feet, more anxious than he'd ever felt before. But he tried to hide it. Neither Draco, Pansy, nor Blaise who had stuck beside them, looked that nervous. So he didn't want to seem nervous, either.

There was a scream, and he whirled around, hand on his wand even though he didn't know any spells yet. Several _ghosts_ had floated into the room.

He hadn't realized that ghosts were real, too.

They were having a discussion among themselves, but Harry was too awed by their appearance to pay much attention. Draco elbowed him.

"What?" he asked, puzzled.

"I've never seen a ghost before," Harry said simply, still staring at a plump looking ghost in monks robes.

The ghosts noticed the students suddenly, and the friar spoke, saying something about Hufflepuff.

"Each house has it's own ghost," Draco told him quietly. "My mother told me."

Like a mascot, Harry thought morbidly. 

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start."

Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway, looking sternly at the ghosts, who moved to float through the walls and into what Harry assumed was the Great Hall. 

The professor told them to line up, and Harry shuffled along with the rest of the group, running his fingers through his hair before flattening his fringe down over his scar.

They followed McGonagall out of the small side room and into a splendid hall, filled with four large tables that held the students of each of the four houses. He looked up to the candles floating in the air, and he noticed the ceiling, which seemed to open up to the sky outside. His mouth dropped open, and he closed it quickly.

The gaze of the older students was on the first-years, and Harry couldn't help but look around. He noticed that each had different colors on their robes, and mentally placed the tables - Slytherin to the left, then Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and finally Gryffindor all the way to the right. He noticed that Ron's brothers all sat at the Gryffindor table.

He hoped he wouldn't be in that house. He didn't want to be with people who thought he was evil, just because he had a snake.

Persephone was still curled up under his shirt, and, not for the first time, Harry wondered if his magic was keeping her hidden. A snake was kind of an obvious thing to be carrying, really, and he was surprised that more people hadn't noticed her.

Maybe he could ask Professor Snape.

He watched as Professor McGonagall brought out a three-legged stool and a worn wizard's hat. She stepped back, and Harry frowned, wondering what the hat was for, when a rip in the hat opened wide, and it actually began to sing.

 _Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,  
But don’t judge on what you see,  
I’ll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
Y_ _ou can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There’s nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can’t see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you’ve a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You’ll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don’t be afraid!  
And don’t get in a flap!  
You’re in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I’m a Thinking Cap! _

The school applauded as the hat finished the song, and Harry joined in, though part of him was still quite surprised. The rest of him was relieved. Try on the hat? To be sure, he would have preferred to be sorted in private, but it was a lot better than he had feared.

With a roll of parchment in her hands, Professor McGonagall stepped forward, and began to read the names of the first-years, calling them up to be sorted.

"Abbott, Hannah!" was the first name, and Harry watched as she was sorted into Hufflepuff. It looked like they would be called in alphabetical order, so he had some time to wait. He watched, filled with a strange combination of eagerness and anxiety, as each student was called forward and sent to one of the four tables.

Finally, Malfoy was called, and Harry watched him walk forward with a confidence that he envied, and sit down on the stool. The hat had just touched his head, and he was sorted into Slytherin.

Harry had noticed that some people were sorted right away, and others took some time. He wondered why.

A thin-looking boy named Theodore Nott was sorted in Slytherin, followed there by Pansy. It was almost time. Harry tensed, his new friends all sorted save Zabini, who would probably be last.

Then came the call.

"Potter, Harry!"

Immediately, Harry heard the whispers about him begin.

" _The_ Harry Potter _?_ "

"The _Boy-Who-Lived?_ "

Keeping his irritated expression off his face - did _everyone_ know about it? - Harry sat on the three-legged stool. The hat was placed on his head, and it slipped down over his eyes. Now in complete darkness, he heard a small voice, but he couldn't tell if it was in his ear, or in his mind.

"Hmm. Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting… So where shall I put you?"

Harry's brow furrowed. Could the Sorting Hat read his mind? 

"Oh, my, yes," the voice came again. "How else would we sort you? Now, where shall you go?"

Harry thought hard, hoping the Hat would understand his intent.

"Slytherin? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that."

That sounded good to Harry. 

"Hmm, indeed! Very well, it seems you'll thrive in SLYTHERIN!"

A beaming grin on his face, Harry stood and handed the had back to Professor McGonagall. if she looked a little bit more pale than before, Harry neither noticed nor cared.

The Slytherins were applauding loudly, and a few of the older years even pounding the table. But the rest of the school was almost silent. Harry sat down next to Draco, who thumped him on the back.

"Well done!" he shouted over the din. It took quite a few minutes for Slytherin to calm down, and then the next student went up to be sorted. Harry hardly paid attention. 

He had made it through the Sorting.

Now that he was seated, he looked up at the head table, curious about the professors. There was Snape, who smirked at him, looking very pleased, indeed. There was the headmaster, matching the picture on the chocolate frog card, with his long white beard, though his eyes weren't twinkling as they were in the portrait. And there was Professor Quirrell, wearing an odd purple turban now. Harry thought he smiled at him, but perhaps it was just a twitch. But as Quirrell turned his head, Harry clapped his hand to his forehead.

A white-hot bolt of pain had shot through his head, right over his scar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hagrid's and Professor McGongall's dialogue, and, of course, the sorting hat's song and first comment, is taken from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.


	9. slytherin house

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, leaning to whisper in Harry's ear as the Headmaster rose.

"Nothing. Headache," Harry grunted, running his fingers through his hair. He didn't know what the pain meant, but his scar had never hurt before. Was it somehow sensitive to magic? Or was it all a coincidence?

Draco frowned.

"If it still hurts after the feast, you should go to the nurse," he instructed, in a manner reminiscent of his mother. But the pain had already faded.

"It's gone," Harry said. Perhaps later, he would tell Draco that the pain had resonated only in his scar. Or perhaps Professor Snape. He would surely know what to do.

The headmaster was speaking, and Harry managed to catch the end of his words.

"-Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" Professor Dumbledore exclaimed, sitting down.

Harry stared. And then he turned to stare at Draco.

"He's, er, a bit mad, isn't he?" he asked. Draco laughed.

"My father says that he's the worst thing to ever happen to Hogwarts," he said, which didn't really answer Harry's question. He was about to say that, when his attention was captured by the food suddenly appearing on the golden plates in front of him.

Harry gaped. He had never seen so much to eat in his life. And he could have as much as he liked. Distracted from his headache and from Professor Dumbledore's strange words, he started serving himself, taking all of his favorites and some things that he had never tried before, as well.

The pumpkin pasties and cauldron cakes long forgotten, Harry and the rest of the school dug into the feast. For a few moments, the only sound to be heard in the Great Hall was the clatter of silverware, but soon conversation rose, as well.

A ghost floated over towards them. He wore clothes that looked at least a thousand years out of date, and had something that looked disgustingly like blood all down his pearly white front. Harry quickly looked away.

The ghost sighed, and remained in the open spot next to Draco Malfoy, who looked disquieted by his presence.

Harry looked up to see the ghost peering at him.

"Harry Potter," he said, his voice almost hoarse. "It is good to see you in Slytherin. And the rest of you," he commented towards the other first years. But his focus soon went back to Harry. He stared, curious, at Harry's forehead, before looking away.

Harry wondered why. Was he famous, even among ghosts?

"Er, thank you, sir," Harry said, when it looked like none of the other first years were going to speak up. "And who-?"

"I am known as the Bloody Baron," the ghost said sadly. He didn't offer his real name, and Harry didn't feel comfortable asking. "The ghost of Slytherin House."

"Nice to meet you," Harry offered, apparently braver than the rest of his classmates.

The Blood Baron looked a bit surprised, but pleased.

"And you, as well."

Harry got back to eating. He was too hungry to be distracted for long, and the food was too good.

"I trust you'll all work hard this year?" The Bloody Baron said, and Harry looked at him, mouth full of potatoes. "We've won the House Cup six years in a row, now. I would hate to break our streak."

It was almost threatening, but Harry wondered what a ghost could really do to him. He shrugged. He didn't yet know how the House Cup worked, or points, or anything like that. Still, the idea of winning sounded good to him. And he had already decided to work hard at his new school.

"Okay," he said agreeably. The ghost smiled. It was a bit disturbing, but it was better than him looking so depressed.

"Well, perhaps we'll speak again, Mr. Potter," the Bloody Baron said, before floating off to speak to a few third years.

Harry shrugged off the odd encounter as he buttered a roll. Ghosts were strange, yes, but no stranger than anything else he had encountered since Professor Snape had come to call.

"He was a bit creepy," Draco muttered, and Pansy nodded vigorously, her face pale.

"I suppose," Harry said. But after first living in a cupboard full of spiders, and later watching his snake hunt for her meals, he had a hardy constitution.

Persephone, perhaps sensing that he was thinking of her, chose that moment to peek out from his shirt collar, scenting the air with her flicking tongue.

"Food?" she asked, winding around his neck. "Mouse? Rat?" She was always more than a bit incoherent when she was half-asleep, as she was now.

"That's a snake," Zabini said, but he sounded more fascinated than anything, so Harry let his imminent comment about stating the obvious go.

"This is my pet, Persephone," he said, stroking her head as she slowly woke up. It still felt wrong to refer to her as his 'pet,' but he wasn't prepared to tell everyone about the familiar bond. Not yet. "I have permission from Professor Snape to have her," he added defensively.

"Very cool, Potter," Zabini said, approvingly. "You might fit in here, after all."

A reedy looking boy sitting across from Harry, Theodore Nott, snorted into his food.

"We'll see about that," he muttered.

"Do you have a problem, Nott?" Draco asked, sounding about ready to fight. "Harry belongs here just as much as any of us."

"No, not at all," he said sarcastically. "After all, he's just the Boy-Who-Lived, defeater of the Dark Lord. Why _wouldn't_ he belong in the Dark Lord's house?"

A hush fell over the first years. No one had dared mention the Dark Lord yet, even though many of their relatives had served him. Many of whom were in prison, or worse.

Harry watched Nott, intently. He was wary of having another Dudley on his hands, another bully. But things would be different this time, if so. He had his wand, he had Draco and his new friends, and he had Professor Snape. Not to mention Persephone. He wouldn't be cowed.

"Whatever happened that night," he said quietly, interrupting Draco's anger, "it wasn't my fault. I was only a year old. How could I defeat one of the most powerful wizards in the world? It just doesn't make any sense."

"Even if you didn't defeat the Dark Lord, how many of our parents did your father put in Azkaban?" Nott demanded. "My mother-"

"That's enough!" One of the older years had gotten up from the table to investigate the commotion coming from the first-years. "Nott, cool off. Potter isn't at fault. We don't blame each other for what our parents did."

Nott looked sulky, but he ducked his head, nodding. Whatever Nott's problem with him was, it looked like he would keep quiet about it for the moment.

The first-years quieted down, only to cheer up when dessert appeared. Harry allowed himself to be distracted by the sweets, not dwelling on how many of his classmates might be his enemies, if he sided against the Dark Lord like his parents.

But he didn't have to worry about that now. He was only eleven, after all. And while he very much hated the person who had killed his parents and landed him with the Dursley's, Harry was smart enough to know that he didn't know everything.

The world was a complicated and mysterious place, after all. Once he hadn't believed in magic, and here he was. 

One of the girls Harry hadn't met yet, her blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, turned to look at Harry, biting into a slice of pie.

"How long have you had a snake, Potter?"

"Since I was nine," Harry said, taking some treacle tart onto his plate. "I found her in the garden, and she wouldn't leave."

It was true enough, even if it wasn't the full truth.

"Oh, that's sweet," said another one of the girls with a sigh. "I'm Tracey Davis, and this is Daphne Greengrass."

"Nice to meet you both," Harry said, after he swallowed. The Dursley's hadn't bothered teaching him any manners, but Harry had managed to pick some up anyway.

Both girls smiled at him. Harry wondered if they would be his friends, as well. Now that he had a taste of friendship, he found that he liked it a lot. It was better than watching Dudley push away anyone who so much as smiled at him, at any rate. And while Persephone was a fine friend, there was something to be said for having humans by his side, as well. Draco had already proved invaluable, teaching him about the wizarding world and defending him from Nott. 

The others started talking about their summer holidays and how excited they were for classes to begin, but Harry noticed something familiar. There was a girl on the other side of Tracey, who looked sad and lonely, and was poking at her dessert despondently.

Harry had worn that expression too many times among his muggle classmates, and he felt for her. Not wanting to leave another person in that position, he spoke up.

"What's your name?" he asked.

She looked up, clearly started, with an expression on her face that clearly said who, me? Harry nodded.

"Millicent Bulstrode," she said quietly, and Harry got the sense she was waiting to be teased. She didn't look like Pansy, Tracey, or Daphne, and while he disagreed with it, Harry had seen other students bullied for looking different before. He didn't like it, having experienced it himself.

"Good to meet you," Harry said, forcing cheer into his voice. "Can I call you Millie?"

She looked almost alarmed.

"Okay?" she said, and it was more like a question than a reply. "I mean, you can if you like."

"Good," Harry said with a smile, determined that no one in Slytherin would be left out. He wouldn't tolerate it. After all, in Slytherin, _you'll make your real friends_ , or so the Sorting Hat said. Harry wanted that more than anything.

Pansy was looking at him speculatively, and Harry thought that maybe he had surprised her somehow. Draco, too, was looking at him oddly, but neither said anything, so he dismissed it.

Harry was growing rather full and sleepy, so when the dessert disappeared from the table, he didn't mind. He was ready for bed, after all, and by the way the sound had quieted around the hall, so was everyone else. At the head table, Professor Dumbledore stood.

"Ahem - just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." He glanced at the Gryffindor table, and harry followed his gaze. Two red-headed boys, Weasley's Harry thought, preened at the attention.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry stared.

"Is he serious?" he muttered to no on in particular. Draco scowled.

"I hope not. I'll write to father - he's on the Board of Hogwart's Governors. He'll know."

Harry wondered if there was anything that Mr. Malfoy _wasn't_ involved with. He had picked up from Draco's letters that he was somehow influential in the Ministry of Magic, as well.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" came the final announcement. Harry noticed that Professor Snape, in particular, had a sour expression on his face.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune and off we go!"

The students began to sing, and Harry joined in with a mental shrug.

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they’re bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we’ve forgot,  
Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot." _

It certainly was a very odd song, but Harry was getting used to that.

"Ah, music," Dumbledore said, wiping his eyes as if he had teared up. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The four tables rose to their feet almost as one, and most of the students started leaving the Great Hall. Harry and the rest of the Slytherin first-years, however, remained, unsure where to go. Two older students approached them.

"I'm Gemma Farley," said the girl with a smile. "And this is Tobias Avery. We're the fifth year prefects. So follow us, and we'll take you to the Slytherin Common Room."

Harry wss glad to know that they wouldn't be left to fend for themselves. He, along with the rest of the first years, followed Gemma out of the Great Hall and down into the dungeons.

Down, down into the dungeons they went, past portraits that moved and muttered as they walked by, through hidden passages and up staircases that moved. Harry could barely keep his eyes open, and he wondered if he would be able to find the Great Hall for breakfast the next day. Hopefully the prefects would help, if he got lost. Or the ghosts.

Finally, they reached a bare stretch of stone wall, and the prefects halted.

"The Common Room requires a password to enter," Gemma announced. Tobias Avery seemed to be the quiet sort. "It changes every two weeks. This week's password is _hellebore_." And the stone wall melted away to reveal the Common Room.

They followed Gemma and Tobias inside, looking around in awe. The ceiling was clear glass, that must have been enchanted, and showed what looked like the bottom of the Black Lake. Harry could see fish, and perhaps other creatures, swimming in the dark water.

The first years gathered around the prefects, though they were ready to go to bed.

"We'll just keep you for a short moment," Tobias said, speaking for the first time, "and then we'll take you down to the dormitories. Slytherin is the least understood house, and many of the other students will think the worst of you just because of the color of your robes."

"We know that dark wizards come from all walks of life and all houses," Gemma continued. "Not just Slytherin. And Merlin himself was in our House - the most famous wizard of them all. But tell that to Gryffindor, who likes to pretend we're all evil."

"We don't tell you this to frighten you, but to prepare you for what you might face in the corridors of Hogwarts," Tobias added. "Be on your guard, and remember: Slytherins are always united. Now, boys with me, girls with Gemma, and we'll see you settled for the night."

Harry followed Avery, along with Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott. Down further they traveled, until they reached a door with _First Years_ engraved in silver on the front. Tobias pushed the door open, and a large room was revealed, with enough four-poster beds for each of them, with green and silver brocade curtains.

Each bed had a trunk in front of it, and Harry found his quickly, pulling the vivarium out of the trunk. Persephone preferred to sleep in it, as Harry had a tendency to roll over on her in his sleep.

"Sleep well," Avery said. "You'll get your class schedules in the morning." And he left, shutting the door behind him.

Too tired to do much besides change into their pajamas and brush their teeth, the boys all went to bed. Harry, his wand under his pillow, curled under the warm blankets and had the best sleep of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore's speech and the school song were taken from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.


	10. the first day

The next morning, Harry was the first to wake.

He lay in bed for a while, just thinking. It almost didn't seem real. Here he was, his wildest dreams come true. He was magical. He had a wand. He was away from the Dursley's. And he had friends, real human friends, for the first time in his life.

He loved every second of it. If Harry had his way, he'd live at Hogwarts during the summer, too, and he had barely arrived.

After letting himself lounge about for a bit, a luxury he rarely had before that summer, Harry rose, making sure to be as quiet as he could so that he didn't wake his roommates. Grabbing his robes and slipping into the bathroom, he got dressed and washed up. Back in the dorm, he woke Persephone, hissing quietly. Grumbling, she slid under his robes around his waist, going back to sleep almost immediately.

"Lazy thing," Harry said affectionately.

He didn't bother taking any of his school books - he didn't know what classes he would have that day, after all - but he put an interesting looking tome called Hogwarts, A History into his bag, as well as some parchment, quills, and ink.

Making his way up to the Common Room, he wasn't surprised to find it almost deserted. He glanced down at the watch he had taken from Dudley's old things. it was only six-thirty in the morning. There were a few older years who barely glanced in his direction, dismissing him almost as soon as they saw him. Harry didn't mind.

His biggest problem at the moment was that he couldn't remember the way to the Great Hall. He doubted Persephone knew, either. She was eager to explore, she had told him, but for that day, the first day, he wanted her with him.

He didn't quite dare ask one of the seventh years talking among themselves, but neither did he want to wait about for one of the prefects. Who knew how long that would take? So, gathering his courage, Harry left the Common Room on his own, ready to explore a bit.

They were in the dungeons, so he knew better than to head further down. He chose the pathway that slanted upwards, and hoped for the best.

At first, things looked familiar. But soon, Harry saw several portraits that he didn't recognize, and a particularly grisly tapestry that he was sure he would have noticed if he had seen it before. He frowned, hoping that he wasn't lost.

"Well, Mr. Potter. Exploring a bit, are we?"

The familiar voice of Professor Snape came as the man himself turned the corner in front of him.

"Professor!" he exclaimed, relieved. "I was trying to find the Great Hall, but I must have gotten turned around."

"Indeed. You're headed in the direction of my quarters, actually."

"Oh. Which way should I-"

"Come with me, I'll show you," Snape said, not looking nearly as reluctant as he sounded.

"Thanks, sir," Harry said.

Snape started walking, and Harry noticed that, like in Diagon Alley, he was walking slow enough so that Harry could keep up with his longer strides.

Harry did his best to pay attention to the route so that he wouldn't get lost again. After all, it wouldn't do to run into something worse than Professor Snape's quarters.

Like the forbidden corridor, whatever was there. Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know, and he certainly didn't want to stumble upon it accidentally.

Sooner than he had anticipated, and by way of a hidden passage or two, Harry was back in the Great Hall.

"Here we are, Potter," Snape said. "Next time, wait for the prefects if you're not sure where to go." And he swept off, black robes billowing.

Harry sat down at the Slytherin table. Only a few Ravenclaws were in the Great Hall, and they ignored each other. Breakfast was already laid out, and Harry poured himself some orange juice that turned out to be pumpkin, and buttered some toast. Cracking the spine on the brand new book, Harry began to read about the Founders of Hogwarts.

He had gotten used to reading alone in the month between his trip to Diagon Alley and Hogwarts, and he was well-practiced in ignoring the noises of his relatives, so Harry didn't notice as the Hall began to fill. In fact, he was so absorbed in the book, he didn't realize that wasn't alone until Draco spoke to him

"Is this where you were?" he asked. "I was worried when you were gone from the dorm."

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly, somewhat reluctantly closing his book. "I woke up early, and decided to get some reading in."

"I see that," Draco said, his voice a little bit sour. "Are you sure you weren't meant to be in Ravenclaw?"

"Pretty sure," Harry said, thoughtfully. The Sorting Hat hadn't said anything about it, after all. "I like reading about magic, but you would too if you were raised by muggles."

Draco looked thoughtful at that.

"I guess it's still all new to you, huh?" he said.

"Yeah. Like, I never knew that the Hogwarts Houses were named after real people," Harry said eagerly. "The Founders must have been amazing."

"Huh. I guess it never occurred to me that you might not know some of that stuff." He poured himself a bowl of cold cereal, and heaped sugar on top of it. "Mother and father never let me do this," he said with a grin.

Harry, who was unused to the bounty of Hogwarts and had overstuffed himself the previous night at the feast, stuck to toast. It was fresh and buttered, though, so he was happy with his breakfast.

Pansy had come up with Draco, and she sat opposite them.

"Is Persephone with you?" she asked.

"Yeah," Harry chuckled. "She's asleep under my shirt. Seems a bit grumpy in the mornings."

Pansy giggled, as if this was very amusing, serving herself breakfast.

"I wanted to thank you, Harry," she said, changing the subject, "for including Millicent last night. She's very nervous about school starting."

"I didn't realize you were friends."

"Yeah, I've known her for ages. We're cousins, actually, so we kind of grew up together."

"Oh. She seems kind of shy," Harry said, a questioning tone to his voice.

"Yeah. She's been teased before."

"I can understand that."

Pansy looked curiously at him, but before she could ask what he meant, Millicent appeared. She sat down across from Harry and next to Pansy.

"Good morning," Harry said cheerfully.

"Morning, Potter," she said quietly.

"You can call me Harry, if you'd like."

Millicent shrugged, serving herself some eggs and bacon. Harry hoped that was a yes.

The Slytherin table was nearly full by then. Harry noticed that most of the first years sat together, but the rest of the years mingled a bit more. That was, except for Theodore Nott, who sat alone.

Harry was happy enough to let him.

Once everyone had arrived, or at least Harry thought they had, Professor Snape came around, handing out their schedules from a stack of parchment. Harry took his eagerly with a smile and a thank you, examining his classes. He couldn't wait to get started.

But it turned out there was a lot to learn before he could cast a spell. His classes were full of the theory of magic, which was complicated and didn't entirely make sense. Harry tried to just go with it, however, figuring his professors knew what they were talking about.

Transfiguration was particularly exciting, with Professor McGonagall turning her desk into a huge pig as a demonstration. Harry couldn't wait to get started, but he had to take a lot of notes first. He wasn't used to writing with a quill yet, and yearned for a pen and some ruled paper. His sentences kept going all wonky and slanted.

Finally, they were each handed a match and told to turn it into a needle. Harry waved his wand, saying the spell.

Nothing happened. He frowned, then looked around. It seemed like none of the other Slytherins were having any luck, either. Crabbe was furiously flicking his wand, and Goyle was glaring at his match. Even Draco, who was sitting next to Harry, wasn't able to change the match yet.

Harry glared at the small bit of wood himself. Why couldn't he do it? It seemed like such an easy thing, even if the notes were complicated. Just a match into a needle. That's what he told himself.

He said the incantation again, with more force this time, flicking his wand as Professor McGonagall had shown them. But, still, nothing happened.

She must have noticed his growing frustration, because McGonagall came over to his and Draco's table.

"Relax, Potter," she instructed. "It's not about force, it's about finesse. Remember what I told you about states of being and changing objects at their base."

Harry nodded, and turned back to the match. He focused on a needle in his mind's eyes, and how different it was to a match. Rough and smooth. Dull and pointed. Brown and silver. He said the incantation, firmly but calmly.

"Professor! I did it!" His match, while not quite a needle, was now made of a silver metal, and the ends were pointed.

"Very nearly, Potter. Take ten points for Slytherin." She smiled at him, a rare thing from what he had heard. Harry smiled back, pleased with himself.

Maybe he could do this, after all.

But not all of the classes were that exciting. In Defense, something that all of the first years were looking forward to, Quirrell stuttered so much that they could barely understand him, and his classroom smelled strongly of garlic and something Harry couldn't name, but thought was mold or some kind of rot.

By far the most boring class was History of Magic. When Harry heard it was taught by a ghost, he had been excited. But Binns turned out to be terribly dull, and more than half the class fell asleep during that hour.

Harry took the opportunity to read his History book, though not necessarily the section Binns was lecturing on. He went by what interested him the most, and Goblin rebellions, which Binns seemed fascinated with, was not that.

Draco teased him again about being a Ravenclaw, but Harry didn't see why that was a bad thing.

On Friday they had double potions with the Gryffindors. Harry was so nervous about this class that Draco eventually asked him what was wrong. Harry finally told him about the encounter with Ronald Weasley on the train.

"What an idiot," Draco had scoffed. "Don't listen to him, Harry. You know better by now."

Harry did, but he was still worried about what Ron had told the rest of Gryffindor about him. Probably that he was the next dark lord or something equally as ridiculous. 

The question was - would they believe him?

Draco spent much time before potions bragging about his family's friendship with Professor Snape, the fact that he was his godfather, and how Snape always favored Slytherin. By the time they arrived at the Potions classroom, even Harry, who was inclined to forgive his first wizarding friend anything, was annoyed.

But as soon as the Gryffindor's showed up, he wiped his irritation from his face. After all, Slytherins were meant to be united, especially in public.

Harry had learned by now that the rivalry between the two houses went back centuries, and he had picked up that his own presence in Slytherin had ignited once more.

After all, according to some, he had been meant to be a Gryffindor.

Ron pushed passed Harry as he entered the potions classroom, hissing at him.

"Traitor," he whispered.

"Five points from Gryffindor for assaulting a fellow student, Weasley." Professor Snape's voice rang out.

Harry grinned at Ron a touch mockingly. He no longer cared what the red-haired boy thought of him. Ron's glare intensified, and he muttered something to the boy next to him. 

The class sat at their worktables, separated by House. The register was taken, the professor reading their names, and then Snape began to speak. His voice was soft, but everyone listened.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry looked at Draco, who seemed enthralled and excited.

"Weasley!" Professor Snape said, startling the class. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Um," Ron said, looking like deer in the headlights. "I don't know, sir."

The girl who had visited their compartment, Granger, raised her hand high up in the air. She looked eager to answer the question.

"Incorrect. Finnegan!" The boy that Weasley had been whispering too snapped his head up. "where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"In the potion's cupboard? Sir?" the boy, Seamus Finnegan, responded with a touch of sarcasm.

Snape sneered.

"Five points will be taken for your cheek, Finnegan. Longbottom - what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry expected another non-answer, but Longbottom, the toadless boy, surprised him.

" _ They'rethesamplant _ ," he muttered.

"Speak up, boy."

"They're the same plant, called aconite."

Snape looked both impressed and displeased at the same time.

"Well, it seems at least one of you came prepared," he said. "And Ms. Granger, do sit down." Hermione Granger had stood up from her seat and was raising her hand as high as it could go. "For your information, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. And a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down!"

The whole class moved to start writing.

There was a great deal of notes to take in potions, about the interactions of ingredients and why you stirred things a certain way and more, and then Professor Snape put instructions on the board for a potion to cure boils. 

Harry was right that it was close enough to cooking that he got the hang of it quickly. Or, at least, he was good at chopping up the potions ingredients with his knife, and Draco took care of everything else.

The only excitement was when Neville Longbottom's cauldron melted, causing boils to appear on him and Seamus Finnegan, who was his partner.

Professor Snape, lips a thin line in his anger at their mistake, sent them off to the hospital wing furiously, vanishing the remains of their potions.

Draco and Harry's concoction turned out well, and Snape gave them a smile that Harry had heard was as rare as McGonagall's. Pleased with himself - that was two classes that he had excelled at, so far - Harry headed to dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Professor Snape's speech and ensuing questions are taken from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.


End file.
